


Le Monde des Sorciers

by Julie_Jeanette



Series: 'Exile' Series [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Enchantress was probably not canon compliant with HP, F/M, France (Country), Gaston was Redeemed by the Enchantress too, Interracial Relationship, Muggle/Wizard Relations, NOT an official Harry Potter universe crossover, Original Character-centric, Prison, Set in Disney's Beauty and the Beast verse, She brought Beast back to life in the 2017 film, Werewolves, Wizarding History (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Jeanette/pseuds/Julie_Jeanette
Summary: Enchantress Agathe is in prison for her redemptive curses on Prince Adam and Gaston. A rebellious wizard named Marcel is jailed along with her. Adelaide, an ordinary maid, and her wizard friend Aloysius hope to rescue them in a cruel, supremacist Magical France.  'Harry Potter' crossover references. Cast of OC's.





	1. Prison

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. - This is mostly an original fic, with the Enchantress being the only recurring BatB character. I may have Gaston and Plumette appear in cameos, since they are 'family' to two of the primary OCs here.
> 
> (Plumette is Marcel's sister, and Gaston is Adelaide's brother-in-law. Explained in 'Exile.')
> 
> I was going to make this an official crossover with Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts universe, but I decided not to, because there aren't any canon HP people in this fic.
> 
> I give credit to JK Rowling for a few world and magic ideas I have borrowed out of love for the series.

…

Paris, France, circa 1770's

...

 _La Maison pour Crimes Noirs,_ the official Magical government prison, was secreted beneath Paris in an underground bunker. Cell blocks formed of glass were stacked in rows four stories high. The blocks were guarded by not only wizard guards, but by magical creatures- giant black cats with large, glowing blue eyes, enormous centipedes, and other beasts which prowled the halls and swam in the central moat.

A tall man, fair-haired with a golden beard and a black cloak, strode along the cell block hallway. He shot electrical sparks at the leaping cats and giant centipedes with his wand as they tried to approach him. The creatures let out strange, otherworldly cries as they were subdued.

Alexis Xavier Sauvageon was a member of the Magical government police, working for the recently appointed French minister, Bartholomé Bertrand. He was there to survey his two latest prisoners, as well as to gloat in triumph.

The first prisoner he approached was his own aunt, his father's sister. Agathe Ophelie Sauvageon. Inmate Number 247. She was the talk of Magical France over the last year or so, having cast what was both praised and scorned as 'the most outrageous curse of the century' on a _Sans-Magie_ prince, his castle, and 'all who lived there.' Her curse had been broken, due to a young woman's true love for a hideous, large horned Beast.

Her true age was forty-six, but she tended to change her appearance back and forth to that of a lovely young blonde or an elderly, impoverished hag- rarely her true age and station. Currently, she was in her youngest form, but her despair over being caught and confined caused her face to pale and dark circles to form under her eyes. Her long golden hair hung limp.

Sauvageon approached the cell where she sat on a straw cot, his gaze triumphant. "Bonjour, Aunt Agathe," he said to her in derision.

"Good evening, Alexis," she said quietly. "Have you seen your father lately?"

"Yes, and he has disowned you from our family. It's disgusting how you have meddled with _Sans-Magies_ in such an arrogant way. Giving them complete awareness of our powers, and our world. And not only you, but your friend here."

Sauvageon gestured with his arm to the young man confined in the glass cell next to Agathe's. He was ignoring their conversation, quietly writing on a small pad of paper with a quill. Sauvageon's former underling spy, Marcel Clement, was Inmate Number 248 and the newest arrival to the prison. He had been Sauvageon's loyal worker only a few weeks before, having gone undercover with him investigating Agathe's latest crimes. The officer had been thankful for Marcel's help in apprehending Agathe. He'd planned to give him a promotion to deputy investigator, even offering to fund his further training.

But that was no longer. Marcel had betrayed him with lawless use of magic of his own! He'd just exposed his powers like a foolish charlatan in front of an entire Prince's court of _Sans-Magies._ Sauvageon had no choice but to lock him up.

He took a few steps forward to the glass cell and leaned down, seeking eye contact with the man. "Clement!" he exclaimed. "Do you have anything to say to me?"

Marcel kept his eyes down on the pad of paper. "There's a werewolf behind you, Monsieur," he said softly.

"I know that," Sauvageon said through his teeth, wanting to send a shock-curse on the wolf-man but resisting the urge. As an officer, he had a reputation to uphold.

Sauvageon was perfectly aware of the presence of one Robert Lefebvre, Inmate Number 213, a burly and muscular man who occupied the cell across from that of Marcel and Agathe. The man was now known simply as 'LeLoup.' His hair and beard had grown long and matted, and he resembled the beast who had bitten him, years before.

LeLoup was an inmate for three years now, as well as the jailers' constant headache. Whenever a full moon came over Paris, LeLoup in his creature form had the ability to attain such great physical strength to break open the thick glass of his cell wall. No matter what charms the jailers cast over him, no matter what body-binds or torture they could set upon LeLoup to weaken him, he always broke free at his transformation. He had bitten two jailers to date, as well as three inmates, causing them to be werewolves.

Presently, Sauvageon resisted the urge to turn around and look at LeLoup. He was quiet, likely sleeping. It would be five days until the moon was set to be full. The thought came in his mind that perhaps he should have Agathe and Marcel moved to the very top floor rather than the bottom. They were troublesome enough as they were; he didn't care for them to become a werewolf and she-werewolf on top of it.

Sauvageon gestured to the paper Marcel was writing on. "And what is this?"

"Nothing." Marcel hid the pad of paper behind his open-buttoned waistcoat.

Sauvageon, a _Lecteur d'Esprit,_ or mind reader, pointed his wand at Marcel's forehead. He studied the man's pleasant face, watching his expression tense and his eyes close. Thought-words in the other's voice entered Sauvageon's mind.

'He won't take away my words, even if he burns my diary, they're still in my mind-'

"Ah, you're fighting me, aren't you, mon garçon?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Stop it!" Agathe commanded her captor. "If you're going to mind-read and torture anyone, do it to me, not the boy."

"Why? I know you can resist it," said Sauvageon. A smirk came over his face as he flicked his wand at Marcel and caused the small diary tucked in his waistcoat to fly into the air and catch aflame, turning to ash. A few flames and burnt embers licked Marcel's hand, causing him to wince with the pain of a burn.

"You are nothing but a common bully! A henchman for Bertrand," said Agathe.

"And you are nothing but a has-been, Aunt Agathe!" Sauvageon hissed. "You have had your name in the papers and have been the talk of Paris for too long, and now you can rot here. Adieu to you both. I am off to one of Monsieur Bertrand's society functions, where I will get my honors for catching the criminal of the century."

"You forgot I helped?" Marcel said, turning his gaze up to the tall man on the other side of the pane of glass.

"You are irrelevant now," said the officer with a glare.

"I doubt they think of me as a criminal of the century," said Agathe. "I performed a foolish spell, that was all, and it was broken by the love of a girl, for a Beast. That hardly puts me in the ranks of the great dark Enchanters."

"Quit your false humility, Agathe," Sauvageon said with derision as he walked away, leaving their cell block.

All he had needed at the moment was seeing them there, where they belonged. His relative, with her 'Beast' curse discussed with enthusiasm at parlors, wizards' watering holes, and witches' sewing circles, would be but a by-word in the Magical history of the age soon.

He himself hoped to rise in the ranks until he became the right-hand man of the minister, Bartholomé Bertrand himself. He and his associates would bring forth a new order of law against _Sans-Magies,_ Magicals born to _Sans-Magie_ parents, and Defectives. The laws were becoming stricter, and the lines between both societies would be more defined until they were certain who the haves and have-nots were.

Aunt Agathe had a clever idea indeed, he thought to himself. Why didn't they think of it earlier? Simply using powerful curses of magic to punish those inferior people- just like that selfish Prince turned into a beast creature- would bring forth a new utopia. Some lives may be lost, but it will be for the best, Sauvageon thought. When he reached the end of the cell blocks, he threw his pinch of enchanted dust into a large copper pot on the floor. When he stepped into it, one black leather boot before the other, it immediately whisked him up to the busy streets of Paris.

…

A gigantic, four-foot-long centipede with bristle-legs felt free to crawl over the front doors of both Agathe's and Marcel's glass enclosures once the officer was gone. Its sickly grey underbelly and pincer-mouth was exposed as it slithered across their new home, looking like a thick snake with an unsightly hairy multitude of appendages.

"Dear God, I hate those things," said Marcel, turning his gaze from the creature and trying to relieve the pain of his blistered knuckle by sucking on it.

"I'm sorry you were hurt by him again."

"I wanted him to burn that diary before he read it. If he'd read it…" He sighed.

Agathe's tone towards him was kind as always. She still wanted to make amends with her prison neighbor and have all be forgiven, but the fact remained that Agathe had once transformed Marcel's innocent sister into a feather duster. She'd nearly died when Prince Adam's life ebbed away, that cruel Enchanted Rose having lost its petals.

Over the last several days, though, the two had begun to forge an unlikely alliance, if not actually friends.

"Perhaps a good thing he burned it then? Clever of you," she complimented.

"Thank you. And I'll be fine," Marcel muttered.

Agathe noticed the young man trying to hide his despair with a neutral and indifferent expression, gazing at the inmate across the hallway from them. Agathe had known Marcel's mother in Paris. Sabine, her name was, a talented African potions enchantress. The woman must be devastated knowing her son was here.

"I see Monsieur LeLoup is awakening," said Agathe, following his gaze.

"We ought to keep ignoring him. The more attention we pay to him, the more reason he will pay attention to us. And then he'll have us in mind, when the moon happens," Marcel said in a whisper.

"I disagree. I think we should engage him. Befriend him. He's just a man still, suffering from a bite. He can't help his transformations."

"Mademoiselle Agathe, he might not be able to help it, but I don't know...I haven't seen what it's like once he does. Uh...have you?" he asked her nervously.

"Oui, Marcel dear, I've seen it. The poor man," said Agathe in sympathy. "He began to crack his cell wall open the last time he transformed into an enormous wolf. The guards were ready for him. They must have set at least a hundred torture and lightning-shock curses on him!"

"If I were a guard here, I would have done the same," Marcel whispered.

"It was beyond cruel and brutal!" said Agathe, shooting him an indignant look. "The sounds of pain he made. And the other werewolves above me made such a fuss, howling and screaming! He is their leader, now. I'm afraid that next time the guards might just kill LeLoup. Execute him without trial."

Marcel looked across the hall at the big man, now sitting up and rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Lightning-shock curses?" he whispered to Agathe. "I'm impressed at his strength having survived that! Still not looking forward to his next transformation. I only hope our walls are well protected," he added.

Agathe and Marcel watched as LeLoup stretched his burly arms, yawning and making a show of licking his lips and gnashing his teeth. He looked across the hall at Agathe and Marcel and grinned, his long brown locks hanging and partly obscuring his broad, bearded face.

"Bonjour! Good day, my fine neighbors!" he said cheerily.

"Good day, Monsieur LeLoup," said Agathe. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry!" he growled. The werewolf was showing some surprising friendliness to them now.

Ever since Marcel had arrived, he'd only experienced threatening rants from LeLoup about how he was going to sink his fangs into his and Agathe's throats and mark them as his wolf-kin, with his trio of goons howling and laughing from the cell floor above. This had been the case for nearly a week now. So to be perfectly honest, a 'good day' welcome from someone like LeLoup was promising.

One of the giant centipedes crawled on LeLoup's enclosure; they watched him swipe at it and stick out his tongue. Marcel cringed at the sight, though he wouldn't mind if those creatures could be devoured.

"I'm getting very bored, Mademoiselle and Monsieur," said the werewolf. "This porridge gruel they give us is quite lacking in protein, don't you agree? I need meat, baaaadly." LeLoup bared his rotting teeth, the incisors notably pointed.

"Perhaps you can ask the jailer for something different. A few of them seem kind enough," Agathe said, deciding to make conversation.

"Oh for God's sake, Agathe!" Marcel whispered.

"He speaks! Hello, Monsieur Pretty Boy!" LeLoup cackled, his throat hoarse from just awakening. "You're still new, after a while you might not look as pretty. I never quite caught your name."

"Clement," Marcel said quietly, bowing his head in an attempt at politeness.

"Is that your last or first name? I once knew a Clement Duchamp. Hated him, arrogant ass. Should have sought him out to bite before I was sent here."

"It's my last name. I, uh…I was mentioned and pictured in the Paris newspapers a few times, years back. I was a star athlete for a while."

Marcel became more bold, caught up for a moment in fond memories and grasping for anything that might elevate himself in the werewolf's favor. "For my Académie when I was a boy. The team Étoiles Bleu, and then for the Faucons de Paris for almost three years, until I had to quit due to-"

"Faucons? The Faucons de Paris?" LeLoup spluttered. "You were on the team?"

"Yes, back in 1767 through 69."

"Is that so?" LeLoup's face lit in fond memory. "I was at a game with my old girl, back in '68, the Faucons played against Les Ouragans de Lyon, and won two hundred points to forty! They were master formation flyers, it was like art in the skies! One boy made the winning catch and the entire stadium went wild! The boy was named Marcel something-"

"That was me." Marcel smiled bashfully at the big man.

"It was you? I want your autograph, mon garçon! I have been a true-blue Faucons fan my entire life. At least-" LeLoup frowned- "until I was afflicted, and imprisoned for what I did under the full moon. Which was bite, maim, and infect a total of twenty-two people so far. Including my three friends whose cells are above you."

Agathe smiled sadly as she listened to his confession. She knew that it helped to get along with the other inmates, particularly if this inmate might possibly break through the glass in five days and devour them.

"Merci." said Marcel, his spirits lifted a bit. "I'd like to write one for you, though I hardly feel as if I'm famous! I only played for a few years, but coaches and team owners are fickle. Once I went too many games without making enough good catches, my career was over before I was twenty and I had to go back to driving carriages for a living. Oh well, c'est la vie."

"But you still have the memories, mon ami. And now...my lady," LeLoup said, grinning hungrily at Agathe. "From what I recall, when you arrived some time back there was a buzzing of rumors going around that you were that 'Beast' Enchantress. I doubt that is true. I don't even believe that 'Beast Prince' story. It sounds like nothing but a _Sans-Magie_ crock of foul stinking _merde,_ some fairy tale legend. Tell me, Mademoiselle, what are you really in for?"

Agathe shrugged. "Misuse of magic. The same as he is."

"Dark magic?" LeLoup asked.

She sighed. "Oui, some of it may have been dark. I used pain curses on a man."

"You did?" He grinned in a rather creepy way. "I like ladies who can torture."

Agathe narrowed her eyes at him. "I was feeling sorry for you last time, but if you try anything with me, or this fellow next to me, I have no other option but to use it, sans-wand."

"But the two of you would be so good as my werewolf-kin," LeLoup replied, licking his chops.

"Monsieur LeLoup, when you are under, um...the full moon, do you have any control over what you do?" asked Marcel. "Or do you just...wake up and not realize that you've maimed and infected people the night before?"

The bearded man's face fell. "I can never control or know what I'm doing. I am conscious, but it is like an animal's consciousness. The last times...I remember the pain. The guards attacking me. With their lightning shocks. Nothing but the pain."

"Do you think you could try breaking out?" Marcel asked.

"Breaking out? I try every time I transform! I've broken this cell countless times and that is how I have my kin! Rousseau! Bouchard! DuMarre! Where are you this evening, you worthless pups! Speak up!"

"We are here, LeLoup! What is your request?" a gruff male voice came from somewhere above the ceiling of Agathe's cell.

"No request. I cannot see you, but I want to hear you, brothers!"

The men upstairs began to howl and emit canine barks, echoing through the chambers. The noise greatly disturbed the other inmates around them, including Marcel and Agathe. The giant black cats began to run down the hallway, sounding out their own hissing vocalizations.

Soon the footsteps of guards sounded in the floor above; their angry voices shouting. With a few strikes of wands and yelps of pain, the three werewolves upstairs were chastised.

"They are such stupid men," said LeLoup. "I would rather have you as company now, Mademoiselle. I'd like to get to know you better."

"I suppose wouldn't mind getting to know you," replied Agathe. "As a friend."

"Ahh, did you expect more?" LeLoup fixed Agathe with a toothy smile. "You could only hope."

"I highly doubt that," she replied. "I'm much older than you think. If I weren't here, I would show you that I can change my appearance to be older or younger. I now wish I was in my elderly-crone form, to tell you the truth."

"I would like that as well," Marcel mumbled. "Less embarrassing for me. I'd think of you as a grandmere."

"I trust that you don't look at me when I need privacy, dear. I do the same for you," Agathe told him softly.

"I don't. I assure you," Marcel said in a chagrined whisper.

"But I do!" LeLoup cackled. "I've enjoyed seeing both of you! Pleasant human bodies to look at, though Mademoiselle- you are much too pale and thin for my taste. And Monsieur, you as well. You aren't pale, but you need more manly muscles to match your assets, ha-ha! But for all purposes, my neighbors- you are feasts for my eyes in this lonely place. I go both ways, if you know what I mean!"

"You mentioned you had a girl once," Marcel said, after overcoming his utter mortification. This was a literal personal hell, being confined to glass walls where he and Agathe were seen every moment of the day by someone else. The only comfort in this prison was the fact that the guards used their wands to give the inmates clean warm-water showers. But it came at a price- the utter humiliation of being forced to strip naked inside transparent chambers.

"I did have a girl- before I was bitten. She left me. She was afraid," LeLoup said, his demeanor quickly switching from manic to sorrowful. He made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sob. "No one loves a man doomed to become a monster one night of the month! One who would sink his jaws into her throat. I'm forever doomed!"

"To tell the truth," Agathe said, trying to console the man with logic, "I knew a woman who loved a monster. It is the reason she broke my powerful spell," said Agathe.

LeLoup barked a scoffing laugh. "I can see you're still a very humble woman who never boasts!"

"It is true, Monsieur LeLoup." Marcel interjected. "Agathe is not a woman to be trifled with...plus she turned my sister into a feather duster shaped like a bird," he added softly, biting on his blistered finger.

LeLoup shook his head in mirth. "Ha! I still find that hard to believe, those rumors. What sort of spell was this, that turned that prince to a beast?" LeLoup asked in a challenging tone, crossing his arms.

"It was a spell that I learned from a book my father owned when I was a schoolgirl. It wasn't allowed in the Académie curriculum because it bordered on dark spells," Agathe told him. "It was more a...complex series of spells, not just one."

"Really?" Marcel said, his expression perking up with intrigue. "What kind of a series of spells?"

Agathe glanced at him, then back at LeLoup, hoping to convince him that what she was infamous for in Le Monde des Sorciers was actually true.

"The curse I performed which turned that young Prince into a creature...was something in my father's old book of magic called 'L'Intérieur Dehors.' A spell which could be either a charm or a curse. It causes a person's true inner self- his ego and motivations- to show on the outside of him. It is truly amusing when one thinks about it. This prince, living in a luxurious castle, was my victim. He was spoiled, selfish and unkind, living a life of greed and indulgence. I remember the look on his face- sneering at me in my disguise as an old beggar hag, through a coat of ridiculous court makeup he wore for one of his masquerade balls. I had no idea what would manifest when I turned it on him. I was quite surprised. And a bit horrified - it turned out to be very brutal and painful for him. The end result was shocking."

"So it was a dark deed," Marcel said. "And you have no regrets about having done this?"

"Not any longer," said Agathe. "Not after the girl claimed her love for him and after he was humbled in spirit. He became the caring and loving man he always had the potential to be."

"A girl loved a monster?" LeLoup scoffed again. "What did the Prince look like 'on the outside' after you were through with him?"

"He was very tall, very large. Covered with fur, but he resembled a bison more than a bear. With two long horns on his head, rather like a ram's," said Agathe.

"The girl must have been out of her mind!" LeLoup snarled.

"I met her!" Marcel cut in. "She actually seemed very nice and normal. They ended up getting married, you know." He glanced over at LeLoup. "You might even find someone someday. Just have hope."

LeLoup tilted his head rather comically, giving Marcel a leering grin again. "What if that someone is you, my angel-faced Faucons star player?"

"Don't push it!" exclaimed Marcel in indignation.

"I'd love to taste that milk chocolate colored skin of yours, when the moon is full…"

"Do you want me to freeze your oversized testicles solid? _Geler_ is my best Offensive! I can perform it wandless!" Marcel yelled in exasperation.

"Oversized, you say?" LeLoup's large body shook in self-indulgent laughter. He was joined by Rousseau, Bouchard and DuMarre up above, chuckling at their leader- though not quite so loud as to incite the guards.

"Boys!" Agathe scolded. "The guards will be alerted, and they will _Bouche de Colle_ us. And with that annoying sniffling nose of yours, Monsieur LeLoup, you might suffocate to death if you can't breathe through your mouth."

"I wouldn't mind if they seal his mouth closed for a few years. Or forever," said Marcel.

"Dear, remember what we want to do regarding our ami here?" Agathe said quietly through her clenched teeth. "The moon is in five days."

Marcel closed his eyes with tension, and glanced back over at LeLoup, giving him a friendly wave. "I'll write you my 'autograph' as soon as I can, Monsieur. I'm glad you came to my winning game that day. My good friend," he added with a soft smile.

"Merci. You know I was only teasing. If you do cast _Geler_ on my sensitive parts, I honestly won't mind," LeLoup said to him, giving him a goofy grin.

Marcel nodded politely. He turned back to Agathe, eager to change the subject to one that concerned him, rather than that of Monsieur LeLoup's testicles.

"Agathe, can you tell me more about the spells that you cast on Prince Adam? Why was it that everyone who had known the Prince and his staff- including me- our minds were erased regarding them? I went for years having lost touch with my sister, because you altered my memory of her!"

"You were the last person I wanted to be aware of it. In fact, you were the one whose memory I erased first. I knew that if you hadn't seen your sister for a long time, you would use your own Magic Mirror to search for her. I couldn't have just anyone coming to that castle. Especially my fellow Enchanteds."

"Why not?" Marcel demanded. "You cursed a man and all of his servants, then made it so they're all impossible to find! Until Belle and her father came around, which was only by chance!"

"They were the ones I chose. Well the girl in particular. Belle. I strongly suspected she could be the one to earn the Beast's love, and to care for him in return. Years had gone by. I had to finally take action, or the spell would go on until he met his doom. So...I was able to pull a few tricks to direct her father Maurice to the castle. And then Belle came looking for him there."

"Tricks using vicious wolves," Marcel said accusingly.

"True," Agathe replied in a quiet voice.

Marcel sighed, putting his hands on his forehead with exasperation.

"I keep wanting to like you, Agathe. I really do. I've forgiven you for what you did to my sister, at least a factual forgiveness. Just because she's doing well now. But the more I learn about every spell you've cast, the more I know that you deserve to be locked up here. And that makes me not regret working for Sauvageon."

He waited for her to answer him. To argue and defend her case, as she was apt to do. But instead, moments went by. A minute- five minutes. No comment.

Agathe had turned away from him, resting on her cot. She had gone silent and aloof. Marcel felt uncomfortable again. Lonely.

As long as he was conversing and socializing with Agathe or LeLoup- hell, even being tortured by Sauvageon- he could forget. Agathe remained stone-faced and stubborn, no longer debating with him. Perhaps guilty, or merely tired.

LeLoup lazily lounged on his cot at present, playing with the drawstring of his worn-out shirt collar, chewing on the end of it like a salivating canine. Marcel didn't feel like talking to him at the moment. Perhaps later, if he became desperate enough for somewhat-human interaction.

Nonetheless, with their lively conversation over, Marcel was left alone with his thoughts. So of course that meant that she returned to his mind and heart.

Adelaide Fortier.

She was back working for a nobleman's family, performing her lady's maid duties, Marcel was certain. He remembered how it felt to embrace her and hold her close, when she'd believed her pet kitten had drowned. He had to use magic then, to make her happy. When she'd been happy, she had such a sweet smile and laugh; dimples on the corners of her mouth, and such innocence for a woman about his own age. He recalled her soft form in her pink cotton dress. The freckles on her fair forearms, cradling the little cat he'd given her.

Marcel never told Adelaide that her kitten, Lorette, was actually once a bark-beetle. He'd performed an Animal Transformation Charm without her noticing.

Her laughter had been infectious and warm. So different from all of those arrogant, sophisticated witch girls from the Académie.

Marcel and Adelaide had talked only about simple things during their days together as they traveled from Paris to Alsace, riding on the buckboard of the coach he was driving. Her family. His sister, the castle they were heading to where his own sister was a maid. Music and festivals. Pets and animals. It felt good to talk and think about things that had nothing to do with the threat of an Enchanted War.

He wanted to tell her he grew up caring for colorful, fluffy _Peluche Balle_ pets- but didn't know how to explain them to her. But he did dare to tell her about his love for his favorite sport. She loved the idea of it when he described the game. They'd even joked about flying over Paris on a broom together.

He knew that eventually, Adelaide would forget about that brief time she spent with an Enchanted man. She would find a good, hard working _Sans-Magie_ man. She'd marry, have a few _Sans-Magie_ children. It was how it should be.

He tried not to cry, but it was difficult.

...


	2. L'Hotel de Brumagne

…

Adelaide ran the mop over the corner of the floor for the third time before she finally rinsed it in the pail, then carried the dirty water out to dump it. Her hands felt gritty, her dress and apron was splashed with water, but she was relieved to be done with the afternoon's chores.

She washed her hands in a basin and then went upstairs to the tiny, plain room she was now occupying in the hotel, next to that of her coworker and friend Monsieur Aloysius Guérisseur. Originally, Aloysius had promised her a 'nicer' room to stay in- but it turned out he was allergic to cat hair, something that made the Enchanted wizard seem just as normal and human to Adelaide as anyone. So, she had taken a neighboring flat in exchange for maid work.

Aloysius was just exiting his door while she was heading to hers. "Bonjour, Adelaide! Finished with your cleaning shift for the day?" he asked, his kind eyes crinkling in fondness for the young woman.

"Oui, Monsieur Aloysius! I'm exhausted, so I might go lie down with my cat for a while," Adelaide replied.

"Ah, good. I'm working the concierge desk this evening, and then perhaps you and I can meet in my room and talk?"

"Sure, Monsieur! I'd like that," Adelaide replied eagerly.

"How are things here going for you?" he asked.

"I know I'm slower than most of the other maids," Adelaide confessed with a sigh, wiping her brow beneath her white bonnet. "This job's a lot harder than I expected. I'm having second thoughts, now."

"I know you must miss your sister," Aloysius said.

"I do- but she's off with her husband, starting her new married life. It won't be the same if I stayed on staff at the Marquis' place. I wonder if maybe she'd be interested in working here? Then we'd be together again."

Aloysius laughed a little. "You know Emilie's husband. His pride would not allow for her to work away from him."

Adelaide nodded. "Very true! I'll talk to you later, Aloysius. Is-" she lowered her voice to a whisper- "is there any chance you might use your powers again soon? Is it safe here- to do it?"

"I might. I have ways to keep my activity hidden."

"I'd like to see it," she replied eagerly.

"I want to give you the items we talked about. To store them in your room and keep them safe," Aloysius said. "One moment, si vous plait."

He ducked into his own door for a moment, and came out with a copper bowl- a very horrible-smelling bowl of something repugnant. When Adelaide peeked into what looked like a decently nice cake-batter mixing bowl, it was filled with squirming fly larvae covering something dead and rotten.

"I'm growing and raising the fly maggots. If you could keep them in your room, dear, it would definitely help me."

She recoiled. "Why...can't you keep them?"

"It would be very obvious to Toulouse if he happens to stop over to my place. He's...also one, you see."

"Toulouse is?" Adelaide exclaimed. "The bellboy?"

"Oui. You would have never guessed him, would you?"

"No." She shook her head. "No Magical I've ever met so far has ever been a person I could've guessed. It's really amazing how you all look so normal."

The man grinned. "We are just as human as you, dear. Now, If you raise the larvae, everyone can just suspect you aren't capable of keeping your own room clean when people walk by your door and smell it."

"I'm sure they'll believe that, considering how incompetent the head maid thinks I am," Adelaide mumbled as she reluctantly reached out to take the bowl filled with squirming putrid things. She entered her room and set it on a table near the bed, then decided to push the table as far from her bed as she could, the legs scratching against the hardwood floor.

"How long am I raising these lovely creatures?" she asked Aloysius as the man lingered in the doorway.

"Just a few days. Then we'll have a good amount of both flies and larvae. Sometime next week, would you mind taking a trip to the river to collect another item?"

"What item?" she asked, cringing.

"You'll see, mademoiselle," said Aloysius. "It will be an adventure, and you said you wanted to see some adventure, so…" He raised his eyebrows in a way that made her nervous.

"All right- I will," Adelaide said, gulping a little. "I guess this means I'm in your plan all the way, with...this." She put her hand over her nose at the smell coming from the bowl, while rummaging on the shabby dresser for a cleaning cloth. She picked up the cloth and covered the bowl with it.

"Non, dear. I'm sorry, but you can't cover them up. They need air. You'll kill them." Aloysius took the cloth off the bowl and handed it to her. She refused to take it after it had touched the inside.

"Are you sure you need this as an ingredient?"

"Oui. It is one of the most important elements, and I must have plenty of generations of these flies on hand. In case my first attempt at the potion fails."

"I see. What kind of potion is it?"

"You'll see eventually."

"Do I have to drink it?" she asked, feeling a bit nauseated as the smell permeated her little room.

"No, of course not. I have to be the one to drink it."

"So- it sounds like I just help you by raising flies, and going somewhere to collect another potion ingredient? That doesn't seem too scary," Adelaide said, relief coming over her.

"Yes, for now that's all I need from you."

"Have you heard anything from them, or about them? Agathe and Marcel? I know there's no way you can communicate with them, but has there been any news? Do they have a chance to undergo a fair trial, or anything? Any way they can be let go?"

"The bad news is that I don't think our new Minister believes in 'fair trials.' Once he and his officers find Enchanters who break exposure laws, in they go! It's just a dumping place now. There used to be trials held only a few months back, but now that man Bertrand has unleashed his tyranny."

Adelaide's face fell. "So there's no hope."

"There is hope," Aloysius said. "I have newspapers that I can show you later. It will help you learn a little more about what our society is like. And once you learn, you'll realize why I keep moving from place to place, doing all these common, low level odd jobs."

"You're a jack of all trades, that's a good thing."

"It is, isn't it? Well, Adelaide- I must be going back to the main lobby and hobnob with travelers and customers at the concierge station. Have some rest." He nodded politely and left her alone.

Adelaide shut the door of her shabby little boarding room, made available for some of the 'help.' The accommodations on her new job were more private then her old one at the nobleman's estate. There, she'd shared a bunk room with her sister Emilie and Madame Chambon, the kitchen maid. She'd tried to make this room homey with things she'd brought from the estate, but it was still shabby compared to the opulence of the rest of the grand hotel.

"Lorette, are you hiding from me?" She glanced around the room, looking for her cat, who soon crept out from under the bed with a mouse in her mouth. She dropped it at her owner's feet and gave her an eager 'meow.'

"Oh, I see you've been hunting." She laughed lightly, bending to pick the dead rodent by the tail, thinking to take it outside and throw it. But then, she realized it would be useful for the breeding of those 'special' flies of Aloysius' that he needed to brew potion. She tiptoed over to the offensive bowl and carefully dropped the mouse inside, not caring to look. She lay on her small bed and placed Lorette to cuddle upon her chest.

"I'm so tired, petit chat. I sometimes wish Aloysius could transform me into a cat, so I could lie around here like you do. But then, I'd be worried that I couldn't be turned back into a human."

Lorette stared up at her with her green feline eyes as if to say, 'Are you kidding me?'

"But considering what Prince Adam's servants went through, probably not," Adelaide stated out loud. "Do you want to play with the gold ball?"

She reached under her pillow and pulled out the little golden sport ball that fluttered in her palm when she held it, its feathery little appendages tickling. When Aloysius handled it, it was able to fly and zoom around, bouncing and ricocheting off walls and furniture. He was a wizard, that was why.

But since Adelaide wasn't an Enchantress, the Magical object did nothing to defy the laws of gravity- she'd toss it up, and it would drop to the floor and roll like an ordinary ball. Presently, she tossed the special ball across her bed and watched Lorette bat it about and wrestle it with her paws.

She imagined being a spectator when Marcel had played his games- soaring in the skies with the rest of his team over a stadium. He'd described it to her as being like 'lacrosse with brooms.'

She often looked out the windows over Paris and wondered exactly where these games that Aloysius confirmed took place were even held. All she ever saw in the skies over the city were flocks of birds.

She had to keep believing. It would be too easy to just forget that magic existed, and that the things she'd seen Marcel do had been mere crazy illusions. He had been an enigma all along. Most of their time together, he had been nothing more than a simple, mild mannered coach driver. Until he shocked her with his almost bashful revelation of power.

Lorette had drowned in the river. Lorette had been truly dead, but Marcel had miraculously brought her back. He'd been actually nervous to admit it.

And moments later, she saw with her own eyes a fierce, supernatural battle with magic wands, something that no ordinary Sans-Magie person was supposed to witness.

No matter what, she held the dear memory of Marcel Clement in her heart every single day since. Her 'Warlock.' That's what she fondly thought of him as.

The better terms, Aloysius had told her, were Enchanter and Enchantress, or Wizard, or Sorcerer and Sorceress. Warlock- which Emilie's new husband Gaston tended to use in a dismissive fashion- was outdated and a bit derogatory. But to Adelaide, the word sounded dashing, manly, and strong.

She recalled Marcel's wand battle with Sauvageon, how his dark eyes flashed with rebellious spirit when he cast the spell which trapped the nasty man in sheets of ice. No, he did not win the fight, quite the contrary. He'd lost, and Sauvageon had whisked him away to prison, never to be seen again.

A tear threatened to sting her eye again, but she swallowed the feelings back. She pet her cat with one hand while feeling the ball, warm and tickling, in the other.

…

After a short restful period, Adelaide heard a knock on the door. Hoping it was Aloysius, she padded on her stocking feet to answer it. She caught the smell of the bowl of fly larvae and dead whatever-it-was on the nearby table.

Aloysius stood grinning with his warm pleasant face and receding salt-and-pepper hair, her one source of comfort and connection to that magical world she was now so intrigued with.

"Good evening, Adelaide. Did you get some rest?"

"Yes," she replied, the smell of that organic stuff making her put a palm over her nose. "Can we talk in your room for a while?"

"Of course," He glanced around and led her into his own apartment a door away. "Come in."

"This is really nice, Aloysius!" Adelaide exclaimed. The sorcerer's latest home was a very elegant and well decorated little apartment with fine furniture, a red carpet, and a narrow four-poster bed with red brocade curtains over it.

"How did you get this? Do you have to pay more?" she asked him.

"Actually...I do my own secret decorating when the other Sans-Magies aren't aware." He went over to the bed and pulled something from under his pillow- a wooden stick.

"Mon Dieu!" Adelaide exclaimed. "It's your wand! Are you allowed to have it here?"

"No one knows, and no one cares here."

He waved the wand in an arc as Adelaide gasped. In an instant, the room turned dull, poor and drab, just like Adelaide's next door room with the same cracked walls, threadbare furnishings, and worn bed coverings.

"This is what it looked like when I took it, but it's an eyesore to me. So I used some of my own imagination and made it more comfortable." He waved his wand again, and restored it back to the pleasant room he wanted.

"Could you do it for mine?" Adelaide asked.

Aloysius grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I suppose. But it must be kept absolute secret. You can't let anyone else inside your room except me."

She laughed. "Sounds scandalous, Monsieur. People are going to gossip about us!"

"I suppose others who are employed here are going to start assuming you and I are a couple. No matter. Let's let them assume."

He led her to a little round table and pulled out a chair for her to sit, then touched his wand to a bottle, causing it to fill with cold water. "I wish I had wine to offer you, but water may do."

"I'd much rather have water now, merci." She watched him pour the water into two shining crystal wine glasses. She took one and drank as her friend sat down across from her.

"I don't care what the hotel people think anyway, Monsieur Aloysius. But I don't want to prevent you from finding a lady of your own. If you're single, of course."

"I am. I never had a wife. If I had one, it wouldn't have been fair to her. You know, the way I trot about France and elsewhere on my Magical missions, finding potion ingredients and bringing them back to all the temporary homes I've occupied. I'm a 'rolling stone,' they say. Potions, and healing, and my secret work has always been more important to me than settling down."

"Really?" Adelaide said, intrigued. "What are the different kinds of potions you make? I know the one that cured Emilie and Gaston was mixed with apple cider and honey."

"Oui. That one is tasteless and it's easy to get people to drink them. My healing potion needed to be activated by true love's kiss. When Gaston and Emilie kissed for the first time, their smallpox scars healed."

"I loved when you did that for them, that was so romantic! What other potions are there?"

"Well, there is the one that causes an extreme infatuation or fake love for someone, but only temporary until the effects fade. It's a very popular potion with young Enchanteds. But I don't like making it or distributing it. It can cause broken hearts and even worse consequences."

"I see. I can understand why, too," She shuddered. "It sounds so evil to use magic to force love or desire. I hope Marcel wasn't under its influence when it seemed as if he liked me. Maybe that...man gave him some, so he had another reason to put Marcel in prison!"

"That Sauvageon fellow?" Aloysius shook his head. "Non, dear, I don't have evidence he bewitched Marcel with potions when you and he spent time together. Now, why would you think that?"

"It's hard for me to believe he really liked me that way," Adelaide said in a lowered voice, dropping her eyes to her lap, still covered in a dirty-water splattered apron. "I'm no raving beauty, Monsieur. Look at me. I'm dumpy and plain."

"Nonsense! You're a fetching and sweet lady," he consoled. "The younger me would've liked to have you on my arm as a date."

"You're saying that just because you're nice. As if I'm the daughter you never had." She took a dainty sip of the cold water, thinking that the elegance of the glass that Aloysius had magically conjured up did not allow for gulping, though she was thirsty.

"Dear, chin up!" he said in assurance. "Don't doubt it if a gentleman cares for you! Frankly, I never saw the two of you together, but from what I know about that young man, Monsieur Clement is an upright fellow who strives to do all things for good. As far as awareness of those kinds of deceptive potions, he's careful about those things now. He used to be a spy for Sauvageon. I don't know if you are aware, but Marcel was his right-hand man for over a year."

Adelaide frowned. "I can't believe he used to work for him. I remember Sauvageon calling Marcel 'his best agent' before he took him. Does that mean he used to work for the Magical government? What is it called?"

"Le Ministère. It's true, Marcel worked for them. Indirectly, but yes. He was an agent in the guise of a simple coach driver. A double agent, because he did things Agathe asked him to do, while obeying Sauvageon at the same time."

A shadow of sadness overcame Adelaide's face once more. "It was dangerous work, then. No wonder he said what he said about wanting to leave the society. Is it really that bad?"

"I am afraid it is becoming that bad. The dark Enchanters have taken over leadership, and what you experienced with Sauvageon was just one example."

Adelaide touched her left upper arm with her right hand, where some time ago she'd been the victim of a magical attack by the cruel man. The cut had healed, but she remembered the terror of Sauvageon flicking his magic wand to inflict it upon her.

"How long do they keep people in prison down there?" she asked.

"Years...I'm sorry. People used to have trials, but Bertrand- the newest minister who uses Dark magic- it is said he doesn't bother with fair trials any longer. Sometimes the only way people can get out, is if their friends or allies come to help break them out."

"Can anyone do that for Marcel? And Agathe, since she wasn't really an evil person after all?"

Aloysius pursed his lips in thought. "It's...possible."

"Do you know people who can?"

"I don't know for certain, dear."

"Do you think you can?" She leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands, her expression eager.

"Perhaps...do you want to help?" Aloysius raised his eyebrows.

"Me?" She leaned away from the wizard in her chair. "How can I help? I'm just a Sans-Magie. And I'm not somebody important, like a noble. I'm a cleaning maid."

"You can help me in little ways. Like today, for example. Raising those baby flies, even though it doesn't smell pleasant."

She took a deep breath. "I...I suppose it isn't hard for me to do that. Or go to find...whatever things you want me to find. I guess it's worth it, isn't it?" she asked in a nervous and halting voice.

"Two precious and talented lives are worth it, aren't they?" Aloysius said pointedly.

"Yes! Of course they're worth it!" Adelaide said. She gathered up a corner of her apron and wiped her eye.

"Then you will assist me from now on," said Aloysius. "Consider yourself a non official member of the ERA."

"What does that stand for?"

"The Enchanted Rebel Army," the sorcerer declared before taking another sip of cold water from his crystal wine glass.

...


	3. A Rally at Le Ministère

…

Agathe closed her eyes and tried to sleep as her internal clock guessed it to be nearing night. The prison was consistently dim at all hours, lit by small torches and the glow of the electric eels in the moat below. The straw mat given the prisoners was no less comfortable than beds she settled for in her old simple hut in the forest near Villeneuve, or the apartment in Paris. She could sometimes almost pretend she was still in the peaceful evergreen forest. All it took was her imagination.

But as much as she imagined, she could not fantasize away the vocal banter and attention-seeking moans of LeLoup, who'd acquired an agreeable audience of one- Marcel. The subject of the afflicted man's lamentation was something which Agathe could not relate to, but her neighbor could. Apparently, Marcel had changed his mind about engaging the dangerous werewolf.

The two men were talking and keeping her awake.

"Oh, powerful soul of Merlin in the beyond, conjure me a miracle in my dreams tonight!" wailed LeLoup. "If a woman loved me again...what a beautiful world it would be! I'd feel like a King! I'd spend every day, every night, in her arms, luxuriating in her lips, her skin, kissing and being kissed, unending, relentless love."

"I feel your pain, Monsieur. It's worse than starvation being without love, without touch, isn't it?" Marcel replied. "Women- so beautiful. Their little dainty fingers holding on to yours, their soft voices. Always loving, never harsh."

"Yes indeed! Never harsh!" cried LeLoup. "My woman would worship the ground I walk on. Every day she would greet me with a home cooked dinner, soups, stews, buttered baguettes, and while we dine together, she would tell me how great and strong and powerful I am!"

"Truth, Monsieur! What a comfort it would be! If only that could have happened for us. LeLoup- what color hair would she have, the woman in your dreams?" Marcel asked, his tone encouraging.

At least both the men sounded happier this evening, Agathe thought.

"Ginger red," said LeLoup. No- reddish gold. Long, red-gold hair, flowing down her shoulders and to her decolletage. Pale as the moon, eyes bright as-"

"So how would her cooking be?" Marcel asked, cutting him off swiftly.

Agathe suspected that LeLoup's mention of the word 'moon' was inviting anxiety in Marcel, ruining his little shared fantasy with his new neighbor.

"Delicious!" LeLoup growled hoarsely. "She would never be short on butter and cream or sugar. She would never burn the breads or let the meat go tough."

"A girl who can cook- that's the best kind! Without the use of wands or spells-"

"Why with no wands or spells, garçon? She would need to use her wand and books of culinary and domestic charms for the best results. Unless you are thinking she'd be Sans-Magie. Are you?"

"What's wrong with Sans-Magie? Do you have a problem with that?" Marcel asked, his tone on the defensive.

LeLoup barked in laughter. "Of course not. I have no problem with you preferring a Sans-Magie girl, as long as you have no problem with me being a werewolf. Do you?"

"I...no. It was no fault of your own," Marcel said with a bit of uncertainty.

"I sense your hesitation, and it pains me, because all I ask for is a friend," LeLoup said softly, in a voice that Agathe was surprised by. He sounded human, wistful, like the shadow of the man he might have been once. No coarseness. She would speak to him more, if he talked that way more.

"I will be your friend. I know you wouldn't hurt a friend," Marcel declared.

"I don't wish to hurt you- I watched you make that winning catch for the Faucons, remember? I'm now your undying fan, sweet boy."

Marcel laughed, softly with a hint of nervousness. "Merci." He paused, then asked a polite question of the other. "Where did you grow up, Monsieur LeLoup?"

"Normandy. Near the cliffs, the ocean. I used to love to swim."

"Sounds nice," said Marcel. "Away from the bustle of the city."

"My parents were respectable wizards," said LeLoup. "Father authored a few books of spells. Surely you've seen the name Jovan-Pasquale Lefebrve on your schoolbooks?"

"Yes, I do remember that name on one of my primary books!" said Marcel. "That was your father?"

"Yes. That had its drawbacks when I went to school, since I should've been an expert at memorizing the spells and acing exams. But I wasn't. I ended up dropping out of school when I was fifteen, spending my time diving and exploring off the beaches of Normandy. I always hoped to spot a mermaid, but I've never had any luck."

"They must be there, since Professeur Pepin had a preserved mermaid's tail in his classroom. It came from the Black Sea, he said," Marcel recalled.

"Professeur Pepin? I had him as well- a good teacher! He sparked my imagination and interest in magical ocean creatures!" said LeLoup. "I'll never forget his theory of the existence of Mer-Warlocks and Mer-Witches. A species of wizards who are half-man, half octopus. They have the ability to transform into ordinary humans and walk on land. If you're unlucky enough to meet an evil one who lures you to the ocean, they will pull you in and drown you."

"I remember that! Most students thought Pepin was crazy," Marcel said fondly.

"True. So I decided I didn't want to waste time in the classroom anymore!" said LeLoup. "I wanted to go back home to Normandy and dive the ocean, holding my lit wand beneath the water in hopes of seeing these merpeople. I knew it was dangerous, and I didn't care. It's ironic, though- instead of being drowned by a Mer-Witch, I was wandering by the cliffs on a moonlit night, seven years ago. That was when I was cornered and attacked by a gigantic wolf. So now- here I am."

"A sad story," said Marcel in empathy. "Sounds like you had a nice place to grow up, at least. Now, when I think of the land of Normandy and beaches, I think of...Sauvageon, and his terrifying crystal ball with those images of the far future."

"That officer, you mean? The one who tossed you in here?" LeLoup asked.

"Yes. Hope I'm free to speak badly of him when he isn't here-" Marcel's voice lowered- "because that man was one crazy m-"

"He's my family," Agathe finally cut in the conversation softly. "And if I were you, dear, I wouldn't say his name out loud, because he may have set a Summons upon it. Just as Aloysius tends to like doing."

"Oh," Marcel said with a little inhale of breath, caution coming over him. The Summons charm caused an Enchanter or Enchantress to 'pop in' a room as a conscious, visible projection from far away, whenever their full name was spoken out loud.

"Wait now!" said LeLoup. "Say that again, Marcel. What 'scary' images of the future are you talking about, mon ami? Something about my homeland, you said?"

"It was nothing in our lifetime, Monsieur," Marcel replied. "A war. He...when I worked for him, he had these strange magical oracles in his office. One of them was a crystal ball. All he would do was point to a place on a map, and speak out a year to the strange ball. Usually a year far into the future. One day, another spy and myself were sitting there, watching him play around with it, like a toy. According to that thing, there is supposed to be a terrible war battle that will happen in your Normandy."

"A war battle? So what?" LeLoup said, shrugging. "Sans-Magies are always at war. They're worse than us. Will it involve you and I personally?"

"Of course not, Monsieur LeLoup. It's supposed to happen well over a hundred and fifty years into the future. It scared me, though. Sans-Magies were using great fire wands. They could fly huge machines- faster than brooms or flying carriages. Their weapons were so terrible, the sea had turned red from the blood of all the soldiers!"

"I can imagine that happening- if werewolves like me are let loose to bite and spread our wretched ailments!" LeLoup exclaimed.

"From what the year was...we won't see that war in our lifetimes," said Marcel. "I'm more concerned about something Sauvageon showed us of events not that long from now," he added soberly. "Only twenty years or so."

"What was that? All Sans-Magies burned up in blue flames thanks to Barth- er- our supreme Leader?" LeLoup asked, catching himself before saying the Minister's full name.

"No...something to do with royals. Here in France. Uh...Mademoiselle Agathe, I think it's something that might concern that nice young couple I met. Adam and Belle."

"What do you mean, Marcel?" said Agathe. "What did you see about them? What was my nephew showing you?"

"Do you care enough about Prince Adam, then?" Marcel asked her. "You hurt him for years, you even admit it."

"Yes, Marcel. But it was my spell that redeemed him. You saw him more recently than I did. He's a happily married, good man. And his servants, including your sister, are doing wonderfully. So why do you still hold it against me?"

"Because I've been trying to work it out in my mind, that maybe Prince Adam and that Gaston fellow deserved your curses. That my sister and her husband, and all those other servants deserved to become objects doomed to that curse, but I can't rationalize it anymore. I don't think they deserved it. It wasn't your place to transform a man into a Beast who couldn't be cured until he found someone to love him. Or turn people into objects whose lives were dependent upon their master finding that love. Or to revive a man and wipe his mind clean like a slate. What you did, Agathe, was arrogant and unlawful!"

At his convicting words, one of the monstrous centipedes creeping along the hallway outside leapt unnaturally in the air and flung itself with a splat against Agathe's cell wall, close to her bed. She flinched at the sight.

"You tell her!" LeLoup cheered Marcel on, a grin spreading across his bearded face.

"Did you cause that?" Agathe asked Marcel, disturbed. The creature thankfully crawled out of sight.

"Involuntarily, yes," he admitted. "It happens sometimes. I'm sorry."

Agathe's features fell, her face looking careworn despite her form as a willowy young blonde, her small figure currently draped in a shapeless, oversized blue and grey-striped prison nightgown. A nerve had been hit, her feelings were hurt. But at least Marcel had expressed the reasons behind his aloof attitude towards her the past few days. Getting his anger out was what he needed to do first, she reasoned. He just needed some time.

"You'd expressed to me on the night you arrived, that you forgave me for your sister's ordeal, Marcel. Yet you keep falling back into resentment. I don't blame you. It was a criminal misuse of magic and power against the Sans-Magie people. Do...do you want to talk about it?"

She was humbling herself, becoming real, raw, and honest. Memories of her own recent lessons toward Gaston Legume, his struggles with honesty and humility, were coming full circle.

"I don't know. I'm just...confused about you," Marcel admitted. "I don't know. It's hard, because he put me here right next to you. He must have known how much of a punishment it would be."

"It's all right, dear. I'm sorry that having me next to you is making things difficult," said Agathe.

"I feel better now," Marcel said, lying down as exhaustion came over him. "Sorry."

"I'm confused about you, too, Agathe. And you, Marcel," said LeLoup, his mouth widening in a snaggletooth grin around his beard and whiskers. "Sexually, that is."

Both of his neighbors looked at him in mortified outrage. Marcel and Agathe were trying to have a heartfelt conversation, trying again to come to an understanding, a truce. LeLoup had their sympathies, but his rudeness was a different matter.

"Do you wish me to revoke the friendship I just declared?" Marcel said in a raised voice across the hall to LeLoup. "Because that's really getting on our nerves. It's why I was encouraging you before to keep thinking about your dream woman!"

"But sometimes I have a dream man," said LeLoup. "I'm like an animal full of pent-up desires, and no way to release them. And before you suggest it, my dear friend of the masculine persuasion, I've tried it. Transparent glass cell walls, no?"

"Blankets," replied Marcel, holding his own wool blanket up and shaking it. "We all have them."

"That's enough, boys. I'm going to try to sleep, and I shall withdraw myself from this discussion this very instant," said Agathe crossly.

"I'd like to withdraw myself from in between the Mademoiselle's lovely, lily white- Aaagghh!"

LeLoup jumped up and doubled over in pain. He rubbed his groin and upper legs, blowing warm air into his meaty hands and putting them back to his midsection to warm himself.

"Cold! Cold! C-c-cold…" The large man hissed and shivered, doing a hopping dance in his cell while stooped over, his face twisting in agony.

Agathe looked at Marcel. "You didn't."

"I couldn't help myself."

"With no wand?" she whispered.

"Yes. I said I could do it wandless."

"Undo it now, Marcel. Please." And yet, Marcel had criticized her for doing similar things to Gaston Legume, she thought.

Marcel concentrated on LeLoup and whispered, "Arrêt." The man stood upright, sighing in relief as warmth flooded over his lower body and the icy cold feeling ebbed away. As soon as the spell subsided, he glanced over at his neighbors in anger.

"Which one of you did that to me?" LeLoup growled, rage twisting his features. The shadow of the wolf that was slated to emerge the very next evening was clear in his bearing.

"I did. Because you violated my privacy and honor as a woman with your words," declared Agathe. "I want it to stop."

LeLoup sat back down on his bed, his eyes widened in shock. They began to redden, welling up with tears of guilt and remorse.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I'll try to control my foul mouth from now on, when I have my human wits about me. But...b-but tomorrow night-" his voice began to tremble with fear and despair, tears spilling into his beard- "Tomorrow night I...I can't control. I won't be able to control...please defend yourselves against me if you need to! Let the guards fry me with their wands! Protect yourselves!"

LeLoup began to bawl and wail like a small child. "They ought to kill me!" were the words that Marcel and Agathe heard through the loud moaning and carrying on.

Marcel looked at Agathe with remorse and relief. He whispered, "Thank you."

Barks and howls sounded from above. "LeLoup! Stay strong! We are here for you, and we'll fight for you!" declared the three men in the upper floor, attempting to console their lead alpha wolf-to-be.

Marcel didn't want to harm LeLoup the next night, nor did he want to find himself casting a freezing curse upon the guards, either. Frustratingly, even well into adulthood, he acted with Offensive magic before thinking, with harmful consequences. His professors from school warned him about that trait, but Sauvageon had encouraged it. He'd told him to be 'brutal,' something against Marcel's nature.

The most glaring example of his impulses was starting the fight with Sauvageon which landed him here. He had to. Sauvageon attacked Adelaide that day, the coward hypocrite.

Marcel watched as a guard finally approached and pointed his wand at LeLoup's cell, causing the unseen glass door to crack open. The guard walked in, wand held out in defense, pulling a canteen from his pocket. With an almost kindly manner, he offered the man some sleeping potion, which he drank. Within minutes, LeLoup was snoring. Marcel lay awake for a while, songs and tunes that his uncle Edouard used to play and sing running through his head, until he finally fell asleep.

Agathe was unable to sleep for a long time. She knew she would get no rest in the chaos which was to come in less than twenty-four hours. Nerves forced her brain to remain on high alert as she, a grown woman, lay in a fetal position like a little girl. A night guard walked by around three in the morning, and Agathe waved him down, begging for a bit of the same sedating medicine LeLoup had been offered.

…

Meanwhile, above the underground prison in the city of Paris, a political rally and party was being held at the auditorium hall at Le Ministère headquarters.

Alexis Sauvageon held a glass of Merlot in one hand along with his fellow officers as the speech was about to begin. The place was packed. Every person's identification had been checked. Wands and Mirrors had been proven to belong to those who carried them, but there was still that worry that someone unauthorized may have been let in.

Bartholomé Bertrand came to the podium- a short man with a block-shaped bald head and buggy, all-knowing blue eyes. He wore a bright blue silk suit and a matching cloak that billowed out behind him, giving him the illusion of more size and stature. Silence went over the hall as all of the men and a few women raised their glasses in a toast. A maître d' stood at the podium holding a goblet and a bottle of Merlot wine, filling it for the Minister and handing it to him.

Minister Bertrand held his own wine aloft and began to speak, his tone initially gentle, soft, then growing to an exuberant crescendo.

"Magic...a human right that all of us hold in advantage. A gift that we must not take lightly. A way of life, a privilege, a weapon. You here before me are the pinnacle of human evolution, the apex of all that is good and right. You, gentlemen- and ladies- are...magnificent! I drink my toast to you, my great people!"

He drank his glass of wine, and everyone, including Alexis, followed.

When all glasses were empty, each Enchanter waved his wand and let the goblets float to the ceiling with excited shouts of 'Hear, hear!" Bertrand held his wand aloft and transformed the multitude of goblets into blue flames, lighting up the hall above them. The flames dimmed, shape-shifted, forming a huge blue cloth banner, emblazoned with a glittering silver 'B.' The crowd roared and cheered.

"You are my elite, my children, my pure Enchanteds," Bertrand continued in a soothing, almost loving tone to his followers. "We are committed to growing and flourishing as a race. Not 'race' as in nationality or ethnic group, non! I may be a French wizard, yet only my father was a Frenchman. My mother is a Spanish enchantress, and I was fortunate to learn three languages- French, Spanish, and English. My friends- I want to welcome the elite and pure from all around the globe! Tonight...we have before us delegates of Magic from China-" Bertrand pointed a finger to a group of representatives, men in bright red traditional Mandarin robes who raised their wands in joyful greeting.

"The African lands!" Bertrand gestured to another delegation- men and women in colorful robes and jewelry who cheered heartily and raised their wands.

"England!" A very small group of suited and wigged men, a few ladies in hooped gowns, graciously nodded and accepted the Minister's greeting.

"Good evening especially to you- for your willingness to join me regardless of national politics!" Bertrand told the English group. He switched his language from French to English to address them only.

"Give your leader my greetings and well wishes, but let's keep what we speak of here tonight confidential. He doesn't need to be aware of all we discuss here, don't you think?"

Bertrand winked jovially and the English representatives laughed, knowing that being here with the controversial French leader was an act against their own Minister.

Bertrand continued. "And I'm proud to say that we have a few brave souls here who traveled all the way from a brand new nation, just established- America!"

Another group of men and women cheered. They were draped in cloaks of red, white, and blue, with stars and stripes. One woman held up a golden banner with an eagle, bearing the slogan 'New Nation? or Ancient Magic?' in English, with 'New Nation' crossed out in blood red.

"A hotbed of debate still happening there, is it not, Elizabeth?" Bertrand asked her personally, once again in English.

"Yes, and I am proud to say that we have just relocated our Enchanted Congress to the city of Washington. So many exciting things happening in our new land this year. It will be a glorious era!" she replied, waving as the people cheered again. Surprisingly, the American group was next to the English group, sharing camaraderie despite the fact that their Sans-Magie counterparts were still engaged in a war of revolution.

"Bonne chance, Elizabeth!" Bertrand beamed at the woman and ran from the podium over to her, taking her hand in his and giving it a gracious kiss. He then ran back up to the podium as a party atmosphere spread among the followers.

Alexis Sauvageon was caught up in the joy and fervor. Bertrand continued to gush praise upon everyone in the hall. He raised his hands, his beaming, charismatic smile turning to a serious frown. The glowing light from the multitude of blue candles suspended above dimmed, little by little.

Bertrand reached beneath his podium and took out a crystal ball. He held his wand over it and closed his eyes. Sauvageon's heart rate rose; it was he himself who owned that crystal ball, an extravagant purchase. He had given it up to Bertrand as a gift.

The Minister opened his eyes and pointed his magic wand up to his banner above. The banner changed from blue to blinding white, and the initial B disappeared, giving the banner the look of a giant screen.

With a flick of Bertrand's wand from the crystal ball, a blue flame shot upward from his wand and soared to the white banner, where moving images appeared upon it. The crowd gasped.

They were the images of the world's future- war, revolutions, genocide- spanning over a hundred years or more. Soldiers wading through blood-red waters, bodies lying about. Sauvageon had viewed these same scenes earlier. He'd been able to use his own powers of prophecy to summon them from the crystal ball, though he himself had little understanding of them.

For several minutes, the assembled delegations of sorcerers and sorceresses watched, shocked and appalled at what they were seeing. When the haunting scenes faded, Minister Bertrand flicked his wand, the blue flames descended to the crystal ball, and his banner was restored to its original cerulean blue color, the silver B emitting sparks and glitter.

"Sans-Magies," Bertrand said grimly, his expression tormented.

Elizabeth, the lady from the American delegation, was heard quietly sobbing. Other voices mumbled in anger and derision.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do we- as noble Enchanted people- kill one another over ridiculous issues such as land and borders? Do we round up others and starve and beat them to death because of their creed, skin color or beliefs?"

"No!" the crowd shouted.

"Do we deny our children a proper education, because some families may lack the wealth to send them?"

"No!"

"Do we take men, women and children from their homeland, crowd them like sardines into ships, and sell the ones who still remain alive across the Atlantic Ocean into slavery?"

"No!"

"We do not!" Bertrand bellowed. "We are civilized. Cultured! Decent...pure! Magic is the great purifier, the trait of all that is good. Those human beings out there- although it makes my stomach lurch to even call them 'human beings'- those creatures without magic, are the ones responsible for all of this! They are savages! Scum! A blight upon the entire world!"

Sauvageon's heart swelled over with pride. Pride for his leader, pride for Magical society, pride for himself. He took a few steps forward, separating from two of his fellow officers, Roux and Surratt, and raising his fist high in hopes to get the Minister's attention.

"La magie est légère!" he shouted, unable to control his fervor. "Magic is light!" His words were echoed by those near him.

"So true, Monsieur Sauvageon, my treasured compatriot! Magic is light!" the Minister said, beaming at Alexis with pride, giving him a glow of satisfaction. "The world is going to descend into darkness, if Sans-Magies are not controlled. The question remains- what shall we do? How shall we prevent these scenes from coming to pass? The only ways are either to render them powerless and use our gifts to make them subservient to us...or, the most distasteful option- extinction."

"Extinction!" shouted an angry man behind Sauvageon. Roux turned around and gave him a disapproving glare.

"We mustn't be rash," Bertrand warned. "We still cannot do anything to let them be aware of us and our world. The last thing we want is exposure. If you show your powers in front of one, and especially if you hurt one, you had better make certain that you alter his or her memory. I am going to ask for an analysis of your personal wands. This does not include you, my lovely foreign friends. I am speaking to my French countrymen only. If we see violations- blunders...you will be shown to your new home underground. La Maison pour Crimes Noirs, where you can live in the company of criminals- such as the notorious Agathe, the crazy, Sans-Magie-obsessed Beast Enchantress. She is safely in custody, no longer able to cause us trouble. So let me warn you, friends. If you are detained, you will be live indefinitely among the likes of Agathe and the other traitors, locked in a glass cell with plenty of er- interesting creatures to keep you...entertained. I don't think you would like that very much."

Sauvageon gulped as Minister Bertrand's eyes swept the sobered crowd and met his gaze. He realized that his own wand still held the memory data, the evidence of the mistake he'd made somewhat recently.

That girl. The one he'd thrown a skin-cutting curse upon. He'd neglected to stay near her to obliterate her memory, or send another wizard to do it. He'd been too focused on Clement, on getting him thrown into La Maison as swiftly as he could.

"I ask you to turn in your wands here at the Law Office tomorrow, and my skilled expert will analyze them," said Bertrand. "Any French Enchanter or Enchantress who claims they forgot their wand at home, will be sent home. To La Maison." He smiled at them again; a smile the same as it had been earlier, when he'd lavished his praise upon them.

Sauvageon's spirits lifted. There could only be one 'skilled expert' Bertrand could be talking about. Who else gave him the grand gift of the Crystal Ball? Who else had captured the elusive Agathe?

"Remember my friends! You are the light! La magie est légère!" the Minister cried, his smile beaming as his wand tip lit with a white glow.

Everyone followed suit, including Alexis Sauvageon. All Enchanters' wands were held aloft, glowing like stars as the auditorium hall darkened, with the exception of the glittering silver B above them all.

"Magic is light! Magic is light!" everyone began to chant in unison, swaying and waving their brilliant wands. It continued for minutes, mesmerizing and electrifying the crowd. Alexis' confidence and pride returned.

After everyone's voices grew tired, the wine bottles were brought out once again, a quartet of musicians began to play, and the rally relaxed into a party.

Alexis shoved his way through crowds, trying to seek eye contact with Bertrand, who was gaily shaking hands with the assorted foreign representatives. Finally, the Minister turned from the guests and locked eyes with him.

"Monsieur Bertrand!" Alexis greeted.

"Good evening, Monsieur Sauvageon," Bertrand said with a fond smile. "Merci for the generous gift of the Crystal Ball Oracle. It was a perfect aid to my speech."

"So, Monsieur- when do you wish me to report to the Law Office tomorrow to conduct my analysis of wands?"

"Ah, there is no need for you to do the job, Alexis. I have appointed Officer Roux instead."

Bertrand's gaze went beyond Alexis' shoulder as he gestured to Nicolas Roux. The other man of more seniority stepped forward, reaching to shake Bertrand's hand and give him a long, sweeping bow of subservience.

Alexis stood there in mortification and shock. Roux stood upright, grinned, and held out his arms to gather both Alexis and Minister Bertrand in a warm group embrace. Alexis' stomach lurched at the close contact. His wand was tucked in his waistcoat pocket, beneath his cloak. Much too close to the wands of both his leader and colleague as they stood hip to hip.

He didn't feel like reveling in the party any longer.

...


	4. LeLoup's Transformation

Marcel opened his eyes late that morning. One moment, he was in a pleasant, groggy sleep state, and the next, dread filled him. Tonight will be LeLoup's night.

He stared at the large figure on the cot behind the opposite glass wall. LeLoup was sleeping late, as always. Marcel looked to the woman on his left; she was motionless, sound asleep. This day was not going to be tolerable. He didn't know what he would say to either of them once they awakened.

A guard came by and deposited their breakfasts- the same old porridge bowls- before them. Marcel tried to force his down while taking care to not look at the walls around him, expecting one of the Centipèdes Gras to skitter by any moment with their bristly legs and pincers, ruining his appetite for another day.

A few moments later, the same guard came by with a rolling cart of tea. Marcel watched the man pour tea for a prisoner a few cells down. One of the giant cats paced by and stopped close to the guard, sniffing the tea cart. Surprisingly, the man poured creamer into a cup and set it down, and the big cat lapped it up. The guard was busy watching whoever it was in that cell, imploring him for a minute to drink the tea. Apparently, the man was stubbornly refusing it.

"I'm leaving this here if you change your mind," the guard said, before moving his tea cart closer. He noticed Marcel looking at him.

"Number 248. Care for some tea?" the greasy haired man asked with a rather curt tone.

"Merci. That's...kind of you," Marcel replied with a nonchalant shrug. The man poured some tea and waved his wand at the glass wall, opening it up to hand the cup to the prisoner.

"A new inmate a few cells down is a VIP," the guard whispered to him with a thumb pointed in that direction. "He used to be one of the Minister's favorite newspaper publishers, but he was just caught this morning! Printing a paper sympathetic to Sans-Magies. With invisible ink!"

Marcel didn't say anything for or against the charge of the new inmate. He accepted the tea and drank it, feeling the comfort of at least having a warm drink and some more human conversation. He was about to thank the guard again when his mind went sleepy and he slumped forwards against the glass wall.

His teacup crashed to the floor. From somewhere outside his dreamy state he heard words pouring out, loudly and fervently, all in his own voice-

_"Earlier this summer, I fell in love with a Sans-Magie woman! I never had the chance to pursue it further when I was brought here. I wanted to court her and marry her if I had the chance! I befriended many a Sans-Magie, including the husband of my sister, who was Defectively born with no magic! My grandmother was Sans-Magie, and that makes me only three-fourths Magical blood! My greatest wish was to abdicate my own Gift, destroy my wand and Mirror forever- and live among them! I would have married this girl. I could have driven carriages, or learned a trade. We would have raised our children, magical or not! And after a good day's work, I wanted to go home, gather my dear wife in my arms and lavish her with kisses and passion! I'd wake for another day's work all over again, hitching up a team of horses and repairing coach wheels! And I would love all of it!"_

Laughter sounded about the cell block as Marcel snapped back to full consciousness. He lifted his head from the cool glass to see the guard joined by another, both looking at him with derision.

"Filthy Sang Sale, lover of mud-women," the tea-serving guard said to him before turning to his colleague. "So Sauvageon was right about him. Too bad...we might have been able to free him today."

Marcel had heard talk of 'mud' people before; a derogatory term for Sans-Magies. And the fact he had one grandparent as such made his own blood 'dirty?' He barely registered the second comment, then- about the possibility of them freeing him. Why was that? Did they stop taking Sauvageon's word as law?

"Tough luck, monsieur," said the other guard. "You're on the starvation list as of today. And you can enjoy the company of your good ami across from you!" He laughed cruelly and decided to spit a bit of saliva against Marcel's wall before walking away. "Have fun with the wolf!"

LeLoup had awakened. He stretched his thick arms and sat upright on his bed, giving him a raised-eyebrow look.

"Sorry for my outburst," Marcel apologized to him.

"Marcel, you're talkative today!" LeLoup said with a surprisingly good natured air. "You woke me from my deep sleep, blabbering on about your Sans-Magie grandmother, and a wife, and...fixing coach wheels? The hell was that about?"

"My guess? It was truth serum," Marcel replied. "They slipped it in a cup of tea and it made me spill out all my secrets and wishes. So now you know my great sins." He gestured to where the guards had left, and the teacup shards on the floor.

"You're a bad, bad boy, I must say," LeLoup said before cackling in laughter. "I'm joking! I thought they already knew of your charges," he added with a crooked smirk. "What did they say about almost setting you free?"

"I don't know," said Marcel, closing his eyes in despair. "Whatever it was, doesn't matter now."

"They said they're going to starve you," LeLoup said softly, and Marcel caught a watery glimmer of caring in the other man's eyes. "A grave injustice. You're only a quarter Sang-Sale? That's no good reason to send you to a slow death."

"No, I suppose it isn't," Marcel said, unable to hide his sarcasm. He tried to focus his attention to LeLoup's well-being, considering the other needed some solace for what was to come.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Not hungry at least," said LeLoup.

"That's good." Marcel forced a smile, turning to check on his neighbor to the right. Agathe was still motionless beneath her wool blanket, which was pulled over her head, looking disturbingly like a death shroud.

"Is she all right?" Marcel asked.

"They might have given her sleeping potion last night, that's what they did for me," said LeLoup. "You know that tonight's the night."

Marcel breathed a long sigh. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better today?"

"Kill my ass before I'm electrocuted, that would be the kindest."

"LeLoup, you know I can't do that."

"It's what I want."

"Agathe?" Marcel pleaded, tapping on her side of the glass with his knuckle. "Agathe, please. Are you awake yet?"

The small lump under the sheets moved, and she pushed the blanket aside. The two men gasped. Instead of a young, tired and pale-looking but beautiful blonde woman, there lay a wrinkled, grey-haired, elderly woman who looked to be on the edge of death.

"Agathe!" Marcel cried out. "What th-? How did you do that?"

She rose up to face them and spoke with a weak, faltering voice. "I...I think I did it in my sleep. I dreamed of transforming, and...I must have willed it to happen in reality."

"You must be under stress," said Marcel.

"Mademoiselle, if you're trying the 'don't hurt a poor old lady' trick on me to pull sympathy, the fact remains that you froze my damned testicles last night!" said LeLoup bitterly.

"I shouldn't have been so rash," said Agathe, still covering up for Marcel's actions. "I was in a cross mood. I am truly sorry for that," she added, giving both men a kind, weak smile. "Good morning. At least I think it is morning. What was your given name again?" she asked LeLoup, in a renewed attempt at kindness.

"It's Robert," LeLoup replied. "No use for it now. I'm a monster."

"Just try to hold on to your humanity, mon ami," said Marcel.

"Not that simple."

"You may die tonight," Agathe said grimly, ignoring Marcel's appalled look at her words. "If their torture is too much, I can possibly do something wandless to help you. I can do the Rendre Fort charm wandless. They may not notice."

"They can't stop wandless charms. Or the curses us prisoners decide to put on each other. Obviously," LeLoup said, eyeing Agathe with angered eyes.

"We wish and hope the best for you, Robert," said Agathe.

"So do I, Robert. I hope for the safety of all of us, to tell the truth," Marcel added.

The conversation between the three of them died off. Awkwardly and nervously, the prisoners sat, Marcel and Agathe constantly glancing in LeLoup's direction. Neither of them really knew what more to say to him for the remainder of the day.

After an hour, Marcel closed his eyes and threw the wool blanket over his head, same as Agathe had done, in order to withdraw into his own thoughts. He went to his 'happy' place that afternoon. That place was the memory of a cross-country journey, well over a month ago. Driving a stagecoach with Adelaide Fortier riding beside him...

............. 

__

__

__

_"Marcel, I swear you're a Cat Whisperer! How did you manage to find Lorette in only a few minutes?" Adelaide asked him with a laugh. Her kitten had been safely located by Marcel, and placed inside the coach with the human passengers. They'd left the town of Colmar, and were on the way to Prince Adam's castle._

__

_"It was luck. Either that, or the fact I found her loitering behind a fish shop. Perhaps she was hungry, I don't blame the little one," Marcel replied with an air of nonchalance. It was partly the fish shop, but mostly the work of his Magic Mirror when Adelaide wasn't looking._

__

_"You have a heart for animals, don't you?" she asked, a laugh still in her voice._

__

_A small dimple formed at the corner of her lip as she turned to face ahead. Her eyes squinted with an expression of mirth. She was enjoying this ride, this day, because he was with her. Or so he hoped._

__

_"I could say that. Animals are pure souls. Few people are." She was one of the purest people he'd ever met, besides his beloved sister._

__

_Adelaide turned to acknowledge his words; her smile to him was sunshine itself. She darted her gaze away again, her cheeks were apple-red. The sun was high, and he wondered if her rosiness was from her neglecting to wear her bonnet that morning. She was wearing the floppy hat, tied with a pink ribbon beneath her chin. Whenever a breeze blew, the brim folded backwards. She put a hand up to fix it, again and again. The breeze lifted the shirred ruffle collar of Marcel's white linen shirt. The two of them admired the lush green hillsides of early summer, as the coach journeyed on._

__

_When they arrived at the ball, would he dare to ask her for a dance? Would he even have the time? He was here on Sauvageon's assignment, not for socializing._

__

_"I'm so glad the sun is out. I was dreading rain, weren't you?" she asked after a time._

__

_"Oui. I don't care to drive the team through mud. The sun is nice."_

__

_"I think so, too. It's so pretty here!"_

__

_"It is."_

__

_Dear God, good Merlin, it was all pretty._

__

_Later, close to the castle, Marcel and Adelaide passed through a village. He decided to not stop, to continue through the thick forested road, so to not be late. They rode on, the other passengers inside. Her sister Emilie, a petite girl with a heart-shaped face and unique beauty of her own. Emilie's fiance Gaston- also known by the name Luc- a tall, raven haired man in his early thirties. He was the one cursed by Agathe, with her Memory-Obliteration. Tortured by pain-hexes whenever Agathe's pre-determined rules for him were broken. Punished for things he didn't remember. He'd been her next subject, after the Prince Adam case. Her second 'experiment' of sorts. Her plan succeeded; the formerly selfish and brutal man was reformed and better off now._

__

_There had been two others present on the ride as well; a happy young married couple named Jean and Clémence. They were near their final destination, when the stagecoach wheel became stuck. Buried in mud..._

__

__

__

...................

'Mud People.'

His mind made that odd association, ruining his pleasant train of thought.

That was what his society called people like Adelaide and his sister. A society no longer his, Marcel decided. If he were to die of starvation in this prison...perhaps it would be better than being part of this existence for life. A life he was now mentally preparing to sacrifice.

Nearly twenty-six years he had lived now, as a born wizard. A star Boule de Plume player for a brief season. The son of a member of the Parisian wizard elite, his mother an African-born enchantress of potion-making talent. He'd been precocious in magical ability as a small child, but only an average student at the Académie.

School proved to be mostly drudgery to Marcel, except for the excitement of playing on the Boule de Plume team for his division, the House of the Butterfly. His only enjoyable class had been Professeur Pepin's, working with the more appealing types of creatures like Lutin Goblins and Chevaux Minuscules. And of course, spending time with his best friend Andre.

School had been a pleasant distraction from the breakup of his parents, and his sister running away from home to join the Sans-Magie world, where she was happier. As a boy, Marcel had naively helped her escape home, where Maman had placed strict rules on her. He didn't know that she wouldn't be able to return...

Looking back, with all its joys and pains, his life was soon to be over.

LeLoup may receive his swift death tonight, by electric strikes from the guards' wands. Marcel would be getting his slowly, over weeks. A slender and fit man, he was the type who ate to live, not one who lived to eat. But still, he was about to suffer. Empty stomachs hurt...after a while, would it stop hurting? Would he desire to eat the disgusting giant centipedes out of desperation? Chew on his own leather slippers?

How long before it would be over?

A crashing, banging sound from nearby shook Marcel out of his morbid thoughts. The sound of cracking glass. Footsteps pattered down the iron staircase at the end of the cell block, voices of guards shouting to each other like a battalion of advancing soldiers. He inhaled a breath out of the hole the wool blanket made over his face and decided to peek out to take a look.

LeLoup was growing into a being twice his normal size. His nose was elongating into a muzzle. His body grew silver-white fur, his arms and legs were shifting and stretching to those of an animal on all fours. He soon formed a tail, claws, and long fangs.

The great wolf leapt madly at his glass wall, pounding and scraping with his sharp claws. Spider-web cracks in the glass gave way to shards on the floor and a gaping hole, and LeLoup forced his muzzle through it with a vicious growl. At least a dozen guards were ready.

The entire cell block lit with wand-shocks like lightning bolts. All the calm and quiet of moments before gave way to shouts, screams, growling, and horrible cracking sounds of the wand attacks. LeLoup gave a loud and agonized howl as he was thrown back by the shocks. He cowered in his cell and curled into a furry ball, shaking as the strikes hit him again and again. Bits of the wolf's fur appeared to be singed by fire. Marcel could even smell something burning.

The three werewolves above howled and scraped at their cells, transformed into slightly smaller wolves. Guards upstairs begin to shoot attack curses at them.

"Agathe!" Marcel screamed out to his neighbor, not sure whether he wanted her to help LeLoup, or to kill him herself before he could kill them.

Which manner did he want to die? A wolf mauling, or starvation? It could be over soon!

The old woman had risen from bed and stood upright, her face strong and determined. She held her bony hands out towards LeLoup as the guards kept firing their torturing curses at him. The huge wolf's cries of pain lessened, he seemed to gain more strength. Agathe must have used a charm to heal or protect him!

LeLoup rose on his hind legs and broke completely through his cell with a shattering of thick glass. Within a split second, he'd leapt and pounced on one of the guards with his front claws. Marcel watched in horror as the wolf bit into the man's throat, drawing blood. After the huge animal raised his head upright, the other guards scattered away.

Scared to the point where he could barely move a muscle, Marcel just stared at the wolf until they finally locked gazes. From behind, he heard Agathe shout a spell of healing. He wasn't certain if it was for the guard, or for the wolf.

LeLoup's eyes were pale blue and bloodshot, the only feature recognizable as the man named Robert. He fixed his eyes on Marcel and crept closer to him.

"Robert!" Marcel yelled, his hands outstretched in defense. "Please...it's me, Marcel, your friend. Please…"

The wolf leapt to his glass cell wall and began to bang on it with his front paws. A web of cracks formed immediately.

Either this, or starvation, Marcel told himself, his hands thrown stiffly forward to brace himself against what was to come. He was faintly aware of Agathe in the other cell, with her hand outstretched, performing spells. He hoped she was doing something to make the glass unbreakable.

The cracks grew until the entire glass wall shattered. The wolf drew closer, his ice blue eyes narrowed in hunger. His mouth went wide open, revealing sharp fangs of yellow with grey and brown stains. The fur on his muzzle was covered with the unfortunate other man's blood.

'Agathe, you insane hag! Are you even helping?' Marcel thought in desperation, aware of her presence nearby.

"No! No!" he screamed, taken over by terror and ashamed of his cowardly cry of "I'm your friend!" which followed. A vicious growl emitted from the creature's throat as he thrust his muzzle towards the frightened man.

...


	5. The Frozen Beast

Chapter 5- The Frozen Beast

...

LeLoup lunged at Marcel in his base animal instinct, ready to maul him.

Marcel's own instincts went into fight-or-flight mode. Almost involuntarily- just as the tip of his right thumb was pierced by the wolf's fang- Marcel heard himself cry out a powerful fighting spell, his only chance.

_"Geler! Tout le Corps!"_

The wolf froze, ceasing all movement as his body was transformed into a sculpture of pure ice. A frigid draft emanated from the remains of what was once a human being. Marcel backed away and stumbled, collapsing on the bed in the corner of his prison cell. He lay there shivering and hyperventilating.

A concerned Agathe drew closer to the young man on her side of the wall, until only inches of glass separated them. The cold seeped through the glass and into her own cell.

Footsteps sounded and the guards returned, having heard the chaos of the werewolf's rampage subsiding to quiet. They must have now felt safe to return to the bottom floor cell block. When they saw what had been done, they let out ecstatic whoops and cheers.

"It's over, people! The werewolf is dead!" the greasy haired guard- who had given Marcel the truth serum- shouted in triumph.

"This was your doing, wasn't it?" another asked Marcel in an interrogating tone. "We saw that full-body _Geler_ curse you just performed with no wand. We saw it on Mirror surveillance! You're not allowed to perform wandless magic here. But- we'll make an exception in this case!"

"You're useful after all, Clement. Enjoy your victory while you still live!"

The guards drew their wands and began their work of repairing the glass walls. They repaired LeLoup's empty enclosure first, sealing all the broken shards of glass within a minute. After that wall was fixed, they couldn't help but stare in awe at the frozen wolf. Its large body was positioned half-in and half-out of Marcel's enclosure, the entire front wall shattered. They glanced at each other a moment before deciding to seal the glass around the ice statue, as if it were to become a permanent fixture.

"You can be proud now, Clement!" one of them said.

"My guess is that in a few hours, you'll have a dead man's frozen body embedded next to you!" mocked the second guard. "Congratulations."

Agathe's heart went out to Marcel as she heard a sob come from the young man. Marcel turned his head away to avoid looking at the spectacle. In any other circumstance, there was certainly beauty in a solid, white-and-crystal-clear ice sculpture of a large wolf. It was a view that any Sans-Magie human might consider art.

But for Marcel, the statue meant only one thing. Murder.

"Marcel, dear?" Agathe spoke gently, when the guards were gone.

"What?" came a hoarse, tearful response.

"Could you undo your freezing curse? If he thaws soon, is it possible he may be all right?"

____

____

"All I know is that the full-body curse is fatal, because it freezes the heart. I've only...I tried it on someone once before. Sauvageon. He mastered the counter shield for it. Otherwise, I could've killed Sauvageon with it. Thankfully I didn't," Marcel told her in despair.

"If you thaw him, do think he may have a chance?" Agathe asked him. "I believe you must try," she demanded firmly.

 _"Arrêt,"_ Marcel said in a tearful whisper, and the ice statue began to melt, the water running to the floor and evaporating in mists.

LeLoup's standing, lunging form was turned back to flesh, bone and fur- a ghastly, stiff creature, like an animal preserved in taxidermy and mounted within the wall of glass. It remained lifeless, the eyes glassy. Marcel gasped in horror. LeLoup looked worse now.

"I cast _Pétrifier_ , and my healing and strength charms on him, Marcel!" Agathe said quickly, as if she hadn't wanted to give him this information but decided to change her mind to console him. "I cast it at the same moment you cast _Geler._ Please, have faith, dear. He may come back. He may come alive!"

"Why didn't you cast _Pétrifier_ before he started to attack me?" Marcel raged at the old woman. "If you had the ability all along, why didn't you just do it? Why did you wait?"

"We are in prison, dear. We aren't typically allowed to curse our fellow inmates, even without wands," Agathe tried to explain. "I didn't want to use my great powers to fight your battle, Marcel. I decided to wait...and let you fight him and decide which curse to use. When I saw you cast the wrong spell- the lethal _Geler_ instead of the less harmful _Pétrifier_ \- I had no choice but to intervene and try to cover your mistake and keep you from getting mauled to death. I had to save you. However...I may have acted a split second too late for poor Monsieur LeLoup."

Her incriminating words were delivered in as gentle, as loving a tone as Agathe could possibly utter. It didn't make a difference. Marcel's rage reached a fevered pitch; he began to curse and swear.

"You could have saved him! You- _putain de sorcière_!" he screamed, tears welling in his eyes. "Because you waited to help me, you caused me to KILL someone! _Va te faire foutre!"_

Agathe restrained her urge to say _Language, dear_ \- knowing the man had reached his breaking point. She watched Marcel's chest rise and fall as he lay, exhausted and spent. A tear trickled from the corner of his eye. He looked so young, so vulnerable. She was unsure of what to say to him for now. She wasn't even certain what the next hours would bring, and she would find out whether or not her magic was still powerful enough.

She decided to ask Marcel a probing question. "Marcel, have you ever been able to revive an animal? Have you ever brought a dead animal to life?"

"Yes," he replied, recalling Adelaide. "I revived a small cat. Brought a dead kitten to life for a friend of mine. My _Sans-Magie friend_...it was one of the charges against me." He sniffled. If Adelaide ever learned he was a killer...

"LeLoup is still in animal form right now," said Agathe.

"No! It's impossible, because Robert is still a human. If I ever listened to any teachers back in school, I distinctly remember Professeur Pepin saying that werewolves are still humans, and if they die in their cursed forms- you cannot bring them to life! Only a true animal can be revived! Not a human if he was a human in essence! Are you a fool?"

"My powers supercede those rules, and I have been able to do such...Prince Adam. Your sister."

"Of course! That's because you've always put yourself above the laws of Magic and Nature!" Marcel shouted, wiping a tear from his cheek. "I don't want to hear anything you say!"

A larger group of six guards returned to their cell block once more. It was the usual two, accompanied by four others.

"Well! Looks like this fellow decided to thaw it out," said the guard who'd been there previously. "Can't blame him, the thing was damned cold. Not a good idea, we'll have to do a removal soon. We'd better wait to see if it transforms to human, in respect to Lefebrve's family members. It might not."

"Cause of death?"

" _Geler-Tout le Corps_ curse. Clement here seems to be a master of it. Not bad." He smirked at Marcel. "Nothing to cry about, I'd say!"

"Wait, now! What happened to that young woman?" another demanded as he glanced in Agathe's direction. "Who are you? You look at least eighty and on death's door, Madame!"

"I am the same woman," Agathe said feebly. "Stress and nightmares caused me to age overnight."

"Agathe is said to be an Age-Shifter," said the greasy haired guard. "Not many Enchanters have this Gift. It's rare. They say she used that skill to trick the Sans-Magie prince before turning him into a bison-beast for years."

"You are a legend, Mademoiselle! Too bad it's illegal."

"Word has it that Our Lord Minister will make the kinds of things Agathe did legal now," one of the guards said in a low voice. "For the sake of Domination."

"Hear, hear!" the greasy guard said merrily. "Let's go up and get a drink. Merci, Clement!" he called back to Marcel. "We ought to fix your wall. Unless you want him to remain there as your trophy. Do you?"

The six guards looked at Marcel for a response; he didn't answer. He faced away from everyone, his eyes closed, silently weeping.

"Very well, then." The men pointed their wands and opened the glass wall. They levitated the stiff body of the wolf, moving him up and across the hallway to his own cell. A hole was opened in the glass, the carcass-like form of LeLoup was laid on the hard floor, and the wall was resealed.

When they left and all was quiet, Agathe could still hear the man on the other side sniffling, choking back tears. She wasn't sure what to say; it would be about five hours until the next day dawned, and she hoped both of them could get some sleep. She doubted it. Agathe whispered a sleep charm to Marcel, and his despair gave way to slumber. No guards came to offer sleeping potions this night.

The next day could bring even more horror- or hope that Marcel hadn't killed his new friend after all.

She had indeed cast _Pétrifier_ on LeLoup that same moment he was frozen, along with her healing and strength charms before Marcel had cast the full-body _Geler_. She would need to wait until the dawn of morning, when the stiff body would hopefully transform back into a man. By then, Agathe would learn for certain whether she had been able to save Robert's life- or not.

...


	6. Back in the Hotel

Aloysius was sleeping deeply in his room around two in the morning, until he was awakened by a crash. His teacup and saucer had fallen to the floor next to his bed.

He assumed and feared the noise was caused by a more threatening Magical human presence. When he lit up the tip of his wand, he saw it was only a small grey rodent, sitting amongst the broken shards of a plate and eating the remains of a cookie.

"Merlin's sake!" he exclaimed in surprise, still not rising up. "The last thing I want in my new place is vermin!"

He considered killing the mouse with his wand for a moment, but instead used the Pétrifier spell to knock the small animal out and render it still. He considered the fact that wherever there was one rodent, there were more, and thus he needed the help of Adelaide's cat. He'd worry about cat hair later.

After rising from bed and carefully stepping over sharp shards of glass, the wizard opened his door to go into the hall and to Adelaide's room.

He was not alone in the hallway.

Someone else was fumbling with Adelaide's door, trying to open it after she'd wisely kept it locked. He saw it to be a well-dressed man in a dark navy coat and black breeches, fairly tall of stature. His back was to Aloysius. Out of pure curiosity, he watched him, keeping silent.

What man would be trying to get in to visit her at this hour of night?

For a moment, his protective fatherly instincts raged, and he braced to attack the intruder, hand on his wand. He saw the man give a gentle knock on her door with his knuckle. The fellow was wearing a hat with a wide brim, which made him difficult to identify from behind.

A sting of disappointment met Aloysius. Could Adelaide be inviting this man in voluntarily? Despite her sweetness and seeming purity of character, she might be entertaining lovers during the wee hours of the night! Or was she so desperate for money...would she sink that low?

But that theory disappeared when he saw the other man pull out a wand and point it at the doorknob with a low hiss of _'S'ouvrir!'_ under his breath. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Aloysius' fingers around his wand handle tightened and his heart rate rose. He moved forward a few steps to catch up with the intruder and followed him into Adelaide's room.

The man's wand tip illuminated to see the woman sleeping in her bed, her face buried peacefully in a pillow. The posture of the man in the hat, the way he was trying to sneak up to her with stealth, all meant he was up to no good. Aloysius decided to speak up.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

The intruder jerked his head back in response. Aloysius recognized the handsome profile, fair beard and Roman nose of Alexis Sauvageon.

The Minister's officer whirled around to face Aloysius completely.

_"Fumée!"_

Before Aloysius could utter a defending spellword, he was blinded by thick smoke pouring from the end of Sauvageon's wand, stinging his eyes and making him cough. He heard Adelaide awaken with a cough, then a cry of alarm.

"Fire!" she shrieked. "Is anyone here? Please…" Her words were choked out by her coughs.

Aloysius could barely see her in the growing smoke. He heard the other man growl out the word _"Effacer,"_ the spellword most commonly used to obliterate one's memory.

Oh no you don't, he thought.

Through the smoke he spotted the glint of a brass button on the bottom hem of the intruder's breeches. He gave a chopping motion with his wand, aiming at the brass button with as much precision as he could, shouting the same spell he'd used on the rodent.

_"Pétrifier!" ___

____

____

Sauvageon fell to the floor with a thump, his body stiff as if he were dead.

 _"Pur! Pur!'_ Aloysius, still coughing, swept his wand wildly over the room. The smoke dissipated away; the middle-aged wizard heaved in a relieved breath of fresh air.

When the room was cleared, Adelaide screamed at the sight of what appeared to be a dead man lying stiff on the floor. Aloysius rushed to her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Please, dear, calm down," he said, panting and coughing after the exertion of the wand fight and the smoke lingering in his throat and lungs. "He's not dead, I had to petrify him."

"Monsieur, did you put the fire out?" Adelaide said, wheezing.

"Yes, Adelaide. I put the fire out."

"Oh! Thank you! Who...where am I?" Adelaide's sleepy and red-eyed face was a mass of confusion. "What is this place?" She fixed her eyes upon her friend. "Monsieur Aloysius? What are you doing here? You never joined us on the trip to the castle! And why am I in this strange room?"

"Adelaide, what castle are you speaking of?"

"Prince Adam's castle. At least that's where I thought I was...wait, what?" She looked around, blinking her watery eyes. "Who's that man on the floor? Did you hurt him?"

Aloysius' heart sank. Sauvageon's spell of memory erasure had hit its target.

"He was...trying to help me put out the fire," Aloysius said, the only thing he could think of from the top of his head in this situation.

"Oh. Thank you so much for putting out the fire. You gentlemen both saved me!" She forced a grateful little smile that faded once she took a better look at the man's still position. "Are you sure he's alive?" she said in distress.

What do do, what to do? Aloysius' potion master expertise told him there was hope to help Adelaide. He only needed to acquire a feather from a specific type of blue songbird as soon as he could, for a memory restoration potion. Fortunately, he'd heard them twittering around Paris.

"He is alive. I'll take him to a doctor. You stay here in bed."

"Why is he looking so...stiff?"

"The smoke...it injured him. Go back to sleep," Aloysius tried to placate her.

"What? I can't do that." Adelaide coughed again, and then lifted herself wearily out of bed. She bent to take a better look at the stiff-bodied man lying on the floor. Lorette the cat came out from her hiding spot beneath Adelaide's bed and sniffed at the fellow's clothes. Her tail waved stiffly, with a sense of high alert.

"Lorette! Who brought you into the castle? I thought I left you in the carriage before!" Adelaide exclaimed, taking her eyes off the man on the floor for only an instant.

"Do you recognize him, Adelaide?" Aloysius asked, trying to gauge the extent of her Obliteration.

She squinted, bending down to look at Sauvageon's face, with his blond beard and dirty-blond hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

"His skin is too rosy for him to be really dead...Hmm. I think he looks kind of like the other coachman who was driving His Honor's carriage. He's friends with Marcel, I think. I'm not sure you've met either of them, Monsieur."

"Either of whom, Adelaide?" he asked.

Adelaide scowled in irritation. "The two coachmen! Why does that matter, Monsieur Aloysius, when we have a bigger problem? I have to find Emilie, because her fiancé has just been falsely accused of murder and locked up. Prince Adam made a terrible mistake!"

Aloysius took a deep breath, grasping at just how to handle this. "Adelaide...what month or day is it right now?"

"Why do you ask? Late June?"

He erased many weeks, Aloysius thought. Whatever it was that Sauvageon wanted to Obliterate from her memory, it happened in that time frame.

He bent over and pretended to take Sauvageon's pulse. He wanted to keep him in this state, and fortunately he was to remain in that state for either six to eight hours or until the counter spell was given. Which Aloysius was in no hurry to do.

"He's going to be all right," Aloysius said after letting go of the man's wrist. "Would you mind just...letting him lie there for a while? Grab a pillow and put it under the poor fellow's head, would you please?"

Adelaide obliged, taking a pillow from her bed and gingerly placing it beneath Sauvageon's head. She even went so far as to cover him with her blanket before gazing at him for a moment.

"He's sort of handsome, actually. I wouldn't mind taking care of him- even though his friend was the man I really care for…"

Oh, Merlin. She truly had no idea who this man was. Nor any memory of what he'd done to her and to Marcel.

Lorette hissed at Sauvageon's still form, her ears, back, and tail standing up. "Lorette, stop!" Adelaide chided the cat before eyeing her friend with distress.

"Monsieur Aloysius, you still haven't told me where we are! Is this another room in Prince Adam's castle? I feel...strange. Like I've been sleeping for too long. I'm sure that before I went to sleep, I was with Monsieur Lumiere and Madame Plumette in their little suite. I thought I'd been sleeping on their sofa..."

Aloysius shook his head. "Adelaide...no. You're not in the Prince's castle any longer. And it's not June. It's the end of summer...you're right. You have been in a deep sleep, for weeks."

It was just a little white lie. He wasn't sure if she still had any knowledge of the existence of magic, or Enchanted people, at this point. Did she even know he was a wizard?

"Oh...where's Emilie?"

"She's married to Gaston now. They're making a new home here in the city. They even have a little apartment."

"But I thought she was going to marry Monsieur Luc! Who's Gaston?"

Aloysius rapped a knuckle to his head and corrected himself. "Ah, sorry. I meant Monsieur Luc. But his real name is Gaston. It's the same man, don't worry. Tall, strong, black haired fellow. I helped cure his smallpox scars."

"I don't understand why he changed his name. If his name was Gaston, why didn't he go by it?"

"It's a long story."

"You cured Emilie's smallpox scars, too! You're a talented medicine maker, Aloysius." Her demeanor began to perk up. "So that means...the misunderstanding about him murdering the Prince...it was cleared up, then? He's innocent?"

Aloysius smiled awkwardly. "It was all taken care of, it's all in the past. He's no longer locked in the Prince's dungeon, and everyone is now here in the city."

"So, where are we now?"

"This is L'Hotel de Brumagne in Paris. The hotel owned by the Marquis de Brumagne, of course."

She went to a window and looked out into the streets below. "The hotel that Luc- well, Gaston- and our cousin Clémence's husband helped build. So what happened to me, to fall in a deep sleep for so long?" she asked, rubbing her forehead with confusion.

He shrugged. "Illness. An unfortunate illness. How are you feeling now?"

"Better...I suppose." She coughed a little. "Still some smoke in my throat from the fire. But I can't rest. Not with this...poor man lying on the floor. We should lift him into my bed. I'm fairly sure he's the carriage driver who was Marcel's friend."

"Yes," Aloysius said, trying to hide his inward cringe. "Do you remember his name?"

"Marcel called him 'Alexis' during the journey to the castle. Aloysius- have you seen Marcel? Did you ever meet him, anyway? Maybe you didn't. If you did, do you know if he ended up staying at the castle to visit his sister? Madame Plumette is his sister. She's such a nice lady."

Aloysius frowned. It would do no good to tell her the truth at this moment.

"I do know him, but...I honestly don't know where he went," He regretted the lie the moment the words left his lips.

"I hope I keep in touch with him again. I hope he didn't see me getting sick! I likely humiliated myself in front of him," she said sadly.

Aloysius saw a blush come over her cheeks. Whenever the cutoff point had occurred where Sauvageon had Obliterated her memory, he could tell that Adelaide had not only befriended Marcel Clement before that point, but she'd developed feelings for him.

That was a good sign.

"Should we move him to the bed, then?" Aloysius suggested, gesturing down to the supine, stiff form of Alexis Sauvageon.

"Yes, let's do that. Poor man, we need to get a doctor," said Adelaide. "He risked himself to save me from a fire, it's the least we can do." She took hold of Sauvageon's ankles, while Aloysius took hold of his armpits. Together, they hoisted him to her bed. His face was expressionless and his eyes were closed, and he could have passed as a corpse if one hadn't looked closely. Aloysius watched her arrange blankets over the 'patient.'

"I can get help. I know a doctor I can consult," Aloysius lied again. Any Sans-Magie doctor would not understand the condition of _Pétrifier._ He hoped to hide him in his own room, but not for very long. Surely the man's colleagues could come searching for him if he was missing from his work; the question was when.

Aloysius pondered what transformative spell he could set upon Sauvageon that would evade their Mirror searches. He came up with absolutely none. He could try turning him into a rat, a spider, even an inanimate object- and a Magic Mirror could still identify him, no matter what.

The last thing he wanted was for Minister Bertrand himself to show up at L'Hotel de Brumagne.

"We should leave him alone and go to my place, dear. I work here now, it's right next door," Aloysius said, trying to conceal his heightening stress.

"I think I just want to go back to the Marquis' estate soon," said Adelaide. "This room is strange, and- what on earth is that horrible smell?" She clapped her hand over her nose. "Something or someone IS dead!"

The fly larvae in the bowl. Merlin! Sauvageon's blasted _Fumée_ probably killed all of them!

Aloysius strode over and looked into the smelly copper bowl. Relief washed over him. The greenish insects were now winged, still feasting upon a dead mouse and the leafy shoot of a plant that he'd started. Hardy little creatures, the Chrysopes were. They were almost mature. Soon he'd have to keep the Chrysope flies contained. They would eventually die with their short lifespans- giving their bodies up for the sake of potion.

"It's only flies...and a dead mouse. Yes, we ought to leave this room, dear. Straight away." he urged.

"Yes, please," she replied with a shudder, stepping down to gather Lorette in her arms. The cat's tail remained stiff and alert; she stared at Sauvageon with suspicion. Aloysius led Adelaide out to the hall and back into his much more elegant room.

"This is where I'm staying now," he told her. "I've moved on up from a dishwasher at the Marquis' place, to a concierge here," he told her, realizing he was going to have to put a lid on his powers until he learned more of what she knew of it.

"It's a nice place. But why did you leave the Marquis and his family?"

"I didn't care to be a dishwasher all my life. Needed more money," Aloysius immediately replied, priding himself on his ability to think like a Sans-Magie. "Plus I have...my hidden talent. Do you know what that is?"

She smiled in warm recollection. "Your medicines! How you healed Emilie and Luc!"

"His real name is Gaston," Aloysius corrected. "Do you know of...er, any other people you've met recently who have...hidden or unusual talents?"

Adelaide gave him a puzzled look. "No, not really."

"Marcel doesn't?" Aloysius pressed, hopeful.

"He's good at controlling his horses," she recalled. "He was very good at finding my silly cat every time she ran away. And he knows his way around the roads of France, but I guess that's expected of a coachman, isn't it?" said Adelaide.

Aloysius muttered 'Damn!' under his breath as he turned away from the girl.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Adelaide," Aloysius said with a forced smile.

"Why would you think Marcel has unusual talents?" Adelaide asked. "Is there something you know about him that I don't?"

Aloysius fumbled. "I only casually know the man. Rarely see him much. I do know his mother." Aloysius said.

The moment he mentioned Marcel's mother, it was as if a lamp flickered on in his brain. Madame Sabine! She was a skilled potions brewer. But now, with a tyrant ruling Magical France, he feared Sabine may have tried to flee the country. She was what they called a Sang-Sale. A Magical with a significant percentage of Sans-Magie blood.

He had to find her. Perhaps she had a Memory Restoration Potion in her home...

"Really? That's nice. Maybe I could meet his mother." Adelaide was saying. "But speaking of family, Aloysius, can you tell me where Emilie and Lu- Gaston live now, so I can visit them? If I've been in a coma for weeks, she must be worried about me. I even missed their wedding! I feel terrible," she added, her voice breaking in realization.

"I don't know where they live. I apologize."

"Then I need to at least go back to visit my Maman and Papa since I'm back in the city! And when I visit them, I can find out where Emilie lives!" Adelaide said firmly. "I can't waste time here. And can you please get a doctor for that poor sick man? Honestly, Monsieur, he looks stone-dead and he's giving me the willies." She shuddered.

"Yes, I can...but if you see any of the hotel managers here, they may not let you leave."

"Why is that?"

"You're supposed to be employed here now, as a cleaning maid."

"What?" Adelaide's voice rose an octave. "How can I be employed if I've been in a damned coma?"

"They were desperate for help?" Aloysius said with an innocent shrug.

"Ugh!" she huffed. "Goodbye, Monsieur, I have to get to my parents' place!"

With her cat in her arms, Adelaide bustled out of the room. It was still dim, early morning in a strange hotel hallway. Small torchlights lit the walls, and she could see an elegant staircase landing at the end.

As she walked toward the staircase, she passed a gilded mirror on a vanity table. The table held two candelabras, a wine bottle, and glasses. She noticed movement, a person in a white nightgown walking beside her. Adelaide gave a startled shriek- before she realized it was only her reflection.

She'd basically just rolled out of bed, the reflection confirmed. She was in no shape to be running around the middle of the city, much less trying to hail a cab to her folks' place. Her brown hair was an untidy mess of waves past her shoulders, and she wore sleep clothes- a wrinkled white cotton long nightgown and pantalettes, no shoes, no brassiere. Plain indecent.

"Merde!" Adelaide cussed, something she typically didn't do. Groaning with exasperation, she had no choice but to head back to the strange room, where Stiff Man lay in the strange bed, in order to acquire some damned street clothes.

She found her way back to the door- at least she thought it was the right door. Opening it, she was aware of decent furnishings and a canopied bed, not the drab one she'd been in when she awakened to this odd situation. She had no candle, and thus needed to fumble around in the dark.

Within a moment the door opened, and someone came in with a flickering candle in his hand.

"Who-"

"Adelaide?"

"Monsieur Aloysius!" she said, relieved it was him. "Unfortunately...I have a problem. I want to leave this place as soon as I can, but I need to get dressed first, obviously."

Her cheeks burned with both frustration and the awareness that despite Aloysius being just her casual friend and coworker, he'd been seeing her in nightclothes. He was a man, no matter how safe and familiar.

"Whatever is most comfortable for you," said the wizard.

"And...well, so all the clothes that I might have are in the other room, and that's now occupied by, um...a half-dead gentleman. Is it possible for me to acquire some of my things and change alone, without either of you men here?"

"But of course," said Aloysius kindly. "Here, let me take your feline friend for a moment." He motioned for her to give Lorette to him.

"She's a bit skittish," Adelaide said, putting the cat in his arms. She turned to walk away, and suddenly felt different- as if she were being squeezed by fabric.

"Are you certain you're undressed, though? You look ready for a trip."

"What?"

She looked down and was perplexed to see that she was now wearing a burgundy red dress instead of a white nightgown. Running her hands down her tummy, she felt the firmness of laced-up stays beneath the fabric, and all of the other things she needed to be wearing to go out in public. Even her hair felt different. It was neater, curled in ringlets and secured with combs. On her right arm was her favorite pink pocketbook. She opened it, finding that it jingled with plenty of coins.

"I hope you have a nice journey. It's morning now, and I would guess there are cabs and carriages making their rounds," Aloysius said, glancing at his clock.

Adelaide was confuddled. How had she imagined not being dressed, and here she was, all ready to go? Perhaps her mind was still foggy from the coma.

She noticed Aloysius' golden-plated clock and other fine furniture in his small suite. If he was only a dishwasher and now a hotel concierge, where did he get the money to have all this?

"Monsieur, how can you afford a clock like that?"

"That's a personal question, is it not?"

"Are you secret royalty?" she asked, smiling a little as if teasing.

"None of your concern, Mademoiselle," he said, though a smile formed on his lips. He still held Lorette in his arms; the cat was calm and peaceful, trusting the man's grip.

"Well...thank you for your help, Monsieur Aloysius," Adelaide said. "I'm glad I woke up and at least found one friend here. Thank you for putting out the fire...there was a fire, wasn't there?"

"Yes," Aloysius confirmed. "Now, please hurry out of this hotel, before your employers catch you going absent sans permission."

"I will! If you don't mind, I'll leave my cat with you for a while. She won't be a problem, I promise. Adieu!"

She headed out of the kind gentleman's room and back down the same hallway, where she encountered that mirrored table with the wine and glasses. She stopped for a moment to check her reflection. She was smartly dressed. The dark red dress- do I even own this dress? she pondered- was simple yet elegant. Her hair and makeup were done. If a cab carriage driver saw her, he would surely stop under the assumption she was a respectable lady of society. A businessman's wife, perhaps. Certainly not a dumpy slob of a cleaning maid.

"I look all right, I guess," she told herself out loud, surveying her appearance. "I only wish being in a coma for weeks without food would've made me slender!"

As an afterthought in all these bizarre circumstances, Adelaide looked down at the wine bottle on the fine Rococo table.

"I might need this, come to think of it." She snatched the wine bottle, and rushed down the stairs.

…

Aloysius immediately went back into the neighboring room next door, now abandoned by Adelaide and occupied by a stone-stiff Alexis Sauvageon, whom the girl had thoughtfully covered with the blanket up to his neck. She'd even fluffed the pillow for the scoundrel.

He sat there for a long time, contemplating what to do. "My dear cousin Alexis-" he said aloud in exasperation, "How in Good Merlin's sake am I going to hide you? And your blasted wand?"

Sauvageon's wand lay on the floor right where he'd dropped it. Aloysius now had it in his possession. His Magic Mirror must also be on his person as well. How else could he have found Adelaide?

Aloysius pulled down the blanket and took note of his younger second-cousin's fine clothes- a dark blue coat over an ivory waistcoat with brass buttons. A lace-edged cravat was tied around his neck. Being petrified, his entire body was stiff as a board.

Inside his overcoat liner, Aloysius found Sauvageon's Mirror pocket. He patted it down to find the Magical oracle and pulled it out, along with a leather wallet containing Magical currency of shiny gold paper. He also found a little white business card with black ink lettering. It read _Alexis Xavier Sauvageon, Chief Law Officer, Le Ministère._

"Oui, there is no doubt that it's you, Alexis." On a whim, he fumbled in the unfortunate man's other pocket, where he found a bag of powder.

"This is curious," he whispered, pulling the little satchel out. When he saw what it was, he shouted a cry of glee.

"Yes! Thank you Great Merlin, and Good King Arthur!" He kissed the satchel. This was what he needed. The most important element of his plan, and now it had literally fallen in his lap from the pocket of Sauvageon himself!

After he rejoiced a moment, he noticed Sauvageon's wand on the floor near his stiff body. He wanted so badly to fling it out the window. If some random Sans-Magie picked it up on the street, it would be useless to them but dangerous when Sauvageon became De-Petrified and wished to retrieve it.

It would be safer to throw it out of the populated area completely, he thought with a grin.

Aloysius collected the other man's wand, strode to the window and opened the shutters wide. He threw the wand as far as he could, while pointing his own wand in its direction. _"Monter en flèche!"_ he commanded.

Sauvageon's wand- which had been falling to the street below- shot up into the higher atmosphere until it disappeared behind a sunlit morning cloud. It would fall back to earth, but not in Paris. Most likely, it would land somewhere near Chateau-Thierry or Montmirail.

Aloysius picked up Sauvageon's personal Magic Mirror again. It was larger, more ornate than his own. Out of curiosity and part fear, he decided to observe those who would soon come searching for its owner.

"Show me the activity of Minister Bartholomé Bertrand!"

...

_Bertrand sat in his office. His desk was placed in front of a great portrait of himself, festooned by blue banners. A gentleman stood before him at his desk, his hands outstretched in confusion._

__

__

_"When was the last time you saw him, Roux?" the Minister demanded._

_"Immediately after your speech, Your Honor!" Roux insisted._

_'I prefer the title 'Lord,' Roux. Not 'Your Honor.' Bertrand said in a low, menacing tone._

_"Pardon me, Lord Minister. He was supposed to report to your Office yesterday morning and turn in his wand for analysis! Did he say anything before he left the rally?"_

_"Just that he was tired, that is all. He looked to be under stress."_

_Bertrand furrowed his brow. "Well, then! I am very disappointed. My educated guess is that Alexis' activities are not as impeccable as we may is something that he's hiding from me, if he failed to show up!"_

_"Yes, Your...my Lord," said Roux. Bertrand smiled contentedly before asking his next question._

_"Do you have a list of all the guilty Enchanters whom he personally sent to La Maison pour Crimes Noirs this year? I know that he's been quite efficient as far as number of people jailed. He never fails to remind me that he was the one to nab Agathe."_

_"I can conjure it now, My Lord." Roux flicked his wand, and the official paper appeared in his hand._

_"Read me the names, beginning from the most recent back to the first of this year."_

_"Raoul Sainte-Marie, your former press man. Jean-Michel Travers. Madeleine Roux- my own sister-in-law, mind you-"_

_"I do NOT care!" snapped Bertrand. "She's said to be Sang-Sale. Your brother is unfortunate to have such a wife. Go on!"_

_"I'm sorry...there's Jacques Verreaux, the man who tried to profit by exhibiting Mythical creatures to Sans-Magies and collecting their money."_

_"Of course," sniffed Bertrand. "What a fool. Who else?"_

_"Marcel Clement, the spy. Alexis had him for hire."_

_"He is the son of Philippe Clement. An old friend of mine, Philippe was. He was respectable. Apparently his son isn't. What was the charge?"_

__

__

_"Exposure, for one. Casting spells in front of forbidden eyes, and Alexis caught him in a friendly situation with a Sans-Magie, possibly a romantic pursuit."_

_"Some people's children," Bertrand said with a shake of his head. "Good old Philippe...he was said to have sired a Defective daughter, because his wife was discovered to be half Sang-Sale. Just like your brother, Roux. The family disgrace sent him to an early grave. Who else?"_

_"Agathe Ophelie Sauvageon, naturally, my Lord," Roux smiled knowingly as he studied the list._

_"Agathe. YES!" Bertrand grinned and clapped a fist in his palm. "Better than a game-winning Boule de Plume catch! We cannot let that woman go. What I want you to do now, Roux, is report down to the prison. Forget reading me this whole damned list. Take it with with you. With the exceptions of Agathe, and that fool Verreaux who was proven to have creatures- I want you to order the prison staff to administer Truth Serum to all of the others."_

_"Yes, Lord Minister. You do not trust Sauvageon's word?"_

_"No. I can't trust Sauvageon any longer. I worry he might be locking up the wrong people, since it was his word only. We have to force these prisoners to tell the truth, and if they confess under the potion, they stay. If not, they are free."_

_"Yes, My Lord."_

_"One more thing. If any of them confess under Serum that they are of undesirable ancestry, one-eighth Sang-Sale or worse, they shall be put to starvation."_

_"Yes, my Lord Minister," Roux said with a hoarse voice, his body tensing. "Should I...search my Mirror for Alexis, as well?"_

_"Yes. If you pick up his whereabouts, go there and fetch him. He will be sent to La Maison for disobeying me."_

__

__

...

Aloysius sobered as he listened to the two men conduct their schemes. He needed to get himself far, far away from Sauvageon's still body. Aloysius himself could be the next to go to that dreaded prison. Relocating and abandoning his post at this hotel was his only option.

Yet, innocent Sans-Magie people were in danger if Sauvageon continued to lay here. Aloysius was not cruel enough to allow the man to risk being buried alive if wizards didn't find him soon enough.

He let the scene in the Mirror fade as he considered his options.

...


	7. Visit with Madame Sabine

Chapter 7 - Visit with Madame Sabine

...

Aloysius worked the concierge desk that day, friendly and cordial to the Sans-Magie guests while he exchanged nervous glances with Toulouse, the bellboy. When his shift ended, he and Toulouse went upstairs to Aloysius' floor.

"What's wrong? You're making me think this hotel isn't a safe haven anymore," the boy said in a whisper.

Toulouse was only eighteen years old, a recent graduate of France's great Académie. Not only was he considered Sang-Sale, but both of his parents were Sans-Magies of humble means. He'd inherited his magic from a grandfather. Naturally, his status made him an eager member of the Enchanted Rebel Army.

"It isn't a safe haven at all," said Aloysius. He led Toulouse to what had been Adelaide's room and opened the door, pointing his wand in defense as he and Toulouse both peered inside.

Sauvageon was still there, lying stone-stiff. The stench of death from the copper bowl, which still nursed the Chrysope flies, hung in the air. The flies had reached maturity, they could hear them buzzing.

"What happened? Was he someone important?" the boy whispered with shock.

"He's not dead, he's petrified. I had to do it."

"What was he doing in Adelaide's room? Is he a wizard?"

"Not just any wizard. One of Bertrand's chief law officers. I put up a fight, but he cursed Adelaide! I sent her away to find her family," said Aloysius.

Toulouse gasped. "Sans-Magies will think there's a dead body in Adelaide's room! You'd better rethink this, Monsieur."

_Good Merlin! _Aloysius thought. If another hotel employee found Alexis Sauvageon lying there, flies and all, poor Adelaide might be mistakenly suspected of murder!__

____

____

"Toulouse- you better leave now. I'm going to let him come to. I've already cast away his wand, so let's hope he's confused when he awakens."

"I'm out of here," said the nervous boy, backing away and running down the hall.

Pointing his wand at the unconscious man, Aloysius whispered, _"Arrêter la Pétrification."_ For a split second, Aloysius watched Sauvageon's eyes open and blink.

To collect his flies, Aloysius waved his wand again, and the little swarm of green Chrysope flies soared to him, as if he were their master. They flew out the door and buzzed in circles around him.

When Aloysius was confident that Sauvageon was coming to, he rushed down the hallway with a carpetbag in one hand and Lorette the cat in the other, surrounded by his swarm of flies. He caught up with Toulouse in the stairwell and clutched his arm with a tight grip.

"We're going to the Third Quartier neighborhood. Come with me."

After making certain there were no other souls in sight, the two wizards, the cat, and the flies all vanished from the hotel.

A moment later they reappeared on the street, in the neighborhood of the Third Quartier where Madame Sabine lived. It was where Adelaide had said her parents lived as well. Perhaps he'd find her later.

"Toulouse, if you don't mind, I want you to find Adelaide and keep watch on her. She's been cursed with memory obliteration."

"That's not good."

"She needs potion. As soon as I can acquire some, she needs to see me. Make up a story, whatever you can do to get her back to me. I'll be visiting Madame Sabine, my fellow potions expert, for the next few hours," Aloysius ordered. "Do you live near here?"

"Oui, this is close to my parents' place," the boy replied, fumbling in his coat pocket for his own small Magic Mirror. "I'll look for Adelaide right now. I'll talk to her when I find her."

"Good luck. I will talk to you when I can, son. Merci."

Aloysius and the young wizard parted ways. He decided to call upon Madame Sabine's place, to check on her. He held the desperate hope she possessed the potions he now needed. Using his Mirror for confirmation, he vaguely remembered that she lived on the thirteen-hundred block of Rue Madeleine.

While he walked, he tried to ignore the dismissive looks of people perplexed by a man with a swarm of green flies circling him, carrying a golden cat and an ugly old carpetbag.

Aloysius used to the looks. It had been worse back when he used to Age-Shift himself to an elderly peddler with a cartful of rotten apples. He'd been the brunt of neighborhood children's' ridicule then.

He soon found the brownstone structure, number 1344 Rue Madeleine. Blossoms of violet, lavender, blue, and white flowers were displayed at every window and in planters on either side of the door. He knocked.

Aloysius could only imagine the grief Madame Sabine must be feeling. Her only son, locked away and condemned to starvation. Perhaps not even alive anymore.

A girl of about thirteen years old answered the door. She had dark curly hair, pretty brown eyes, and the light brown complexion of a mixed African-European heritage. Marcel had spoken of a beloved sister, but she was about thirty, he recalled. That sister had been the non-Magical maid whom Agathe had cursed in Prince Adam's castle.

Perhaps this child was another sister of Marcel's, Aloysius assumed. Her resemblance to the imprisoned man was striking, even on a little girl.

"Hello, Monsieur," the girl greeted shyly, keeping the door open only a crack.

"I've come to speak to Madame Sabine. Is she home?"

"I cannot let you in unless you can answer our question," she said soberly, eyeing him with suspicion. "At the Great Académie, what sculpture sits in the study lounge of the House of the Butterfly?"

"A large mermaid," Aloysius replied.

The girl smiled. "What is the sculpture made of?"

"Amethyst. Deep purple, the official color of the House of the Butterfly. It was my division when I was a schoolboy. The lounge's furniture is purple and lavender, and there are butterfly motifs around the room. It was a beautiful place."

She withdrew from the door a moment and then nodded, turning back to him. "There's one more thing my Auntie wants me to ask you. May I see your wand?"

Aloysius took his wand from his pocket. The child looked at it nervously, afraid to touch it. She carefully put her pointer finger on the wand tip, wincing. Then, she gripped it with her whole hand.

"Your wand didn't burn my skin. That means you're safe! You may come in, si vous plait."

"I'm proud of you for your caution, Mademoiselle," Aloysius told her kindly.

"Auntie Sabine! There's a gentleman at the door! He answered my questions right and he passed the wand test. And he has a cat!" the young girl added in an afterthought.

"Merci, Monique!" the lady of the house said warmly, rushing to greet her visitor. "Monsieur Aloysius Guérisseur! I was hoping to contact you, and yet- you are here!"

She gladly rushed to collect the cat from Aloysius' arms, before hurrying to close the door- as if the world outside was a threat. She let the cat down to wander; Lorette found a cozy spot on the floor.

Sabine was still a beauty of around Aloysius' age; in her mid fifties. She appeared much younger. She was clearly of African origin with her dark brown complexion, and her ebony hair was in an elaborate coiffure; many narrow braids pulled back, twisted and fastened with a gold clasp. She and her niece both wore comfortable, robe-like dresses suitable for a leisurely day confined at home.

"You look magnifique, Madame. Your husband is a lucky man," Aloysius said, bowing and taking the lady's hand to give it a kiss of greeting.

"I must try to look good at all times! I need to keep my spirits up, take care of myself, and the rest of my family." she said with a determined yet mournful expression. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Aloysius?"

"Merci," said Aloysius. As he walked, the swarm of green flies followed, circling over his head while Sabine asked her niece, Monique, to go into the kitchen and pour the guest some tea.

"Chrysope flies?" said Sabine, unconcerned that a cloud of insects had come into the house. "I have a vial of Impersonation Draught if you need it."

"Merci. I was about to brew some, but I might not need that now. Something came up, and now I need other kinds. Invisibility and Memory Restoration potions. I'm in dire need of the latter, for a friend. And the former...for my plan to help Marcel."

"How can you even attempt to help him escape, Monsieur?" she said in distress. "The prison can only be entered freely if you're an officer or guard. It's impenetrable otherwise. My only thought would be if you used Impersonation with Sauvageon."

"It can't be Sauvageon now," said Aloysius. "He's lost favor with Bertrand, and I'm not exactly sure how to get close to any _La Maison de Crimes Noirs_ guards. So now, it is back to square one."

Her face fell. "I should have known it was impossible."

"I am so sorry, Madame. I'm still thinking...do you by chance have Memory Restoration draught?"

"Memory? I have a supply of that in storage. At least ten ounces."

His spirits rose. "Thank you! I'll pay you whatever price you'd like for a small vial."

"You needn't pay me, Aloysius," she replied. "I can lend you some. As much as you wish. Whatever we can do to save my boy!"

Aloysius surveyed the small sitting room, comfortably decorated with pillows, more vases of fresh carnations and lilacs, African mask art on the walls, and an amethyst butterfly sculpture on the fireplace mantel.

He also noticed a few Magical portraits on the walls. A beautiful, smiling young woman in a white dress and curled white wig. She appeared to be blowing the viewer a flirtatious kiss.

There was also a poster of a _Boule de Plume_ team, a grinning, teenage Marcel standing among them. It was the popular _Faucons de Paris._

"You and your family have a comfortable home here," Aloysius said to Sabine, who invited him to sit on a small settee while she took a rocking chair.

"We may be leaving soon," she replied sadly. "My sister Celeste- Monique's mother- she and her husband have already moved to England. London," she added. "They speak the language better than I. Monique, of course, begged to be allowed to stay with me and start her new year at the Académie. At her age, she loves her school and her friends. She doesn't want to be transferred to the British académie."

"They can't make me go to that... _cochon avec des verrues_ school!" Monique shouted from the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping. "I'll miss my friends! My English isn't good yet. And besides, they wear ugly robes and stupid witch hats there. I like our uniform!"

"Monique," Sabine said sternly. "We have a guest."

The girl came back quietly carrying a tea tray and set it down on a table.

"So you like school, then? What is your Division?" Aloysius asked her.

She responded by pointing to her necklace charm- a tiny amethyst butterfly.

"Like my cousin Marcel was, I'm a Butterfly," she said quietly. "Have you heard anything, Monsieur? Are they going to kill him?"

When she saw the distressed look on her aunt's face, she regretted her question. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Auntie!" she lamented, sitting on the chair arm next to her aunt. She hugged her in comfort.

"It's all right, _ma enfant_ , I would have wanted to know the same," said Sabine, her eyes reddening. "Aloysius, I haven't even tried looking in my Mirror. I'm afraid of what I will see. How they might be treating him."

"If you would like, I can look for you. You don't need to watch or hear," Aloysius said very gently. He took out his Mirror. Sabine pulled her wand from her dress pocket and pointed it to her ear, giving herself a Silencing Spell. She lowered her eyes to her teacup, her hands shaking as she held it.

If it were bad news, Aloysius would tell her that the jailers set a spell on the prison, so it could not be viewed via Mirror.

"I'm worried, Auntie Sabine," Monique said tearfully. She fled the sitting room and up the nearby stairs.

"Show me the prisoner Marcel Clement in _La Maison de Crimes Noirs_ ," Aloysius said. The mirror fogged, and a dim, barely lighted scene came into view. It became clearer the more Aloysius peered into it.

It would be late morning in the prison, but the windowless cell block hallways were dim. Only a few torches lit the place. He noticed a monstrous-looking _Centipede Gras_ crawling along a corridor, as well as a huge, menacing black cat.

Inside two neighboring cells, Aloysius made out two people. Marcel was asleep, and appeared to be alive and decently well. He wore a shadow of beard stubble, and his typically short-cropped hair had grown out in frizzy curls.

"Sabine?" Aloysius raised his finger to catch the woman's attention. She caught his eye and stopped the silencing charm with her wand.

"Yes? What do you see?" she asked fretfully.

"He's asleep right now. Do you want to see?" He beckoned to her to come near and watch the Magic Mirror with him. She took tentative steps to his settee and sat next to him. When she spotted her son, she was overcome with emotion.

" _Mon Dieu!_ He still looks beautiful. Thank heaven he's still alive...my poor boy! I wish I could speak to him!" she exclaimed, clutching a fold of her loose-fitting dress and twisting it. She watched the Mirror with him for several moments. "The old woman with him...who is she?"

"My cousin Agathe, of course. Imprisoned for everything she has done. She is an Age-Shifter, she is not that old in truth."

"Agathe Sauvageon, you mean? Why is my son next to her?" she cried. "How could he be locked up with that criminal who almost killed my daughter?"

Aloysius turned off the Mirror. Sabine gestured to the Magical portrait of her grown daughter, the woman dressed in white, wearing a wig and playfully blowing a kiss.

"Jacinta Colombe, my eldest," she said. "She has no magic and is married to a Sans-Magie man. A good man. Agathe Sauvageon turned her into a feather duster! She trapped her in that castle for _years!_ Then she erased our memories so none of us would look for her! She bound Jacinta to her master, the Beast Prince. When he almost died, she almost died! Oui, she redacted her spell, and brought them back. But it was _dangerous!"_

Sabine's temper was starting to flare. Monique flew back down the steps to stare at both of them wide-eyed.

"Monique, enfant, go to your room."

"I'm not a baby," Monique argued.

Sabine gave a weary sigh. "I am in no mood to fight with you, child...let me tell you what I've seen. Marcel is still alive, petit, but he's imprisoned next to Agathe Sauvageon!"

" _Her_?" The child gasped, as if Agathe were the devil.

"Curse that woman!" exclaimed Sabine, looking at Aloysius. "The Sauvageon family is evil as sin! I can't believe you are their relation." Angry tears welled in the lady's dark eyes. "I wish with all my heart that Marcel had never been involved with that crook Alexis. With _Le Ministère._ "

"You would have never foreseen this, Madame."

"Marcel was desperate to take any job in Magical society when he stopped playing professional _Boule de Plume._ Alexis offered him one. It seemed good...until recently. That monster betrayed my son."

"I am terribly sorry. It's true, you were both betrayed and hurt by my Sauvageon relatives. My mother's side of the family," Aloysius said. "They always had a reputation for using dangerous, experimental magic, even if it wasn't dark."

"That man Alexis was a terrible influence. Marcel had trouble reigning in his magic as a child. He would use it without our permission. I had hoped that school taught him to not use it impulsively."

Aloysius frowned. "To tell the truth, Madame- Marcel did perform illegal exposure spells on his own free will. Sauvageon wasn't the one making him perform magic in that Prince's castle. He chose to do it, and in fact I witnessed him doing it. I wasn't present in that castle, but he used the Summons Charm with my name by accident. Later, Alexis caught him in the act, and sent him to prison."

Madame Sabine shook her head tearfully. "He was innocent!"

"I'm not saying he meant harm or evil. It was an unwise decision on his part. However, his punishment is much too harsh. Alexis is a monster. I am sorry."

With his words, Madame Sabine put both hands to her temples in despair. Aloysius lay the Mirror down on the table and spoke gently.

"Madame, I must tell you- if there is anyone you would want your son to be with in that hellhole of a place, it's Agathe. She is not Dark or evil, despite all you hear. She uses her powers in only helpful ways, and she's paying her own dues for breaking the laws."

"How could she have been helpful or kind?"

"For one, she corrected her curse, and your daughter is now happy and well. Is the portrait of her recent?"

"Yes, last year," said Sabine, wiping her eye with a lace handkerchief. "I created those lifelike Enchanted portraits of her with my wand when I visited her and her husband in that wonderful castle, soon after the Prince's royal wedding. She was overjoyed to have her life back again! Her marriage to Francois is one of the most loving marriages I have ever beheld, and I learned to accept love and marriages between Enchanteds and Sans-Magies. And that led to my second marriage, bless my darling man!" She smiled through tears.

"I wished I could have seen the castle," Monique said softly as she lingered nearby. "I couldn't leave school. Could we go next summer, Auntie?"

"Perhaps...we'll see," Sabine said, placating the girl.

"Where is your husband today?" Aloysius pressed, guiding Madame Sabine to a more pleasant thought.

"At work, as always. The dear man burns his candle at both ends. He repairs and creates all kinds of furniture and lamps. He is a fair business man, as well. He's everything my first husband Philippe looked down upon- but he's so much better here," She put a delicate hand on her heart.

"I'm glad for that."

"I only wish I could have my son back! I despise seeing that Mirror...it confirms what I don't want to admit. For the last weeks, I've imagined he's only out driving coaches, as always. Yet...I need to see him in the Mirror again. May I?"

"Be my guest," Aloysius said, and they looked on at the scene at the prison. Marcel was still sleeping. Agathe was close by, and she was watching over him with care.

"How can she have any concern for my boy?"

"I would imagine she does now, Madame Sabine. Your son is a kind and decent man. Perhaps he has worked his kindness into even Agathe's heart."

Agathe happened to be sitting up in a straw cot, a blanket tossed aside. She held out one gnarled hand- not towards Marcel, but to someone else, out of view. Aloysius and Sabine could barely hear her whisper something. A spell.

 _"Arrêter la Pétrification_ ," she was saying. Or rather, a counter-spell. A man's voice began to moan weakly, as if he were ill and in pain, but too exhausted to cry out.

"Monsieur LeLoup...are you awake?" Agathe asked the man, whom Aloysius did not see in the Mirror. "How are you feeling?"

"I...I feel...horrible...I'm _alive_?" they heard a deep-voiced man lament. "Damn...the guards got me bad this time."

"You were on the edge of death, Robert. I saved your life," said Agathe.

They watched Marcel stir from his sleep. Sabine was intrigued as she watched her son, sitting and staring across a glass wall, at some other man they did not know.

" _Robert_?" Marcel exclaimed. "What...was it all a dream? You were dead. You must have been dead...how?" The man was truly perplexed. "Agathe? Did it work? Your spell?"

Sabine smiled tearfully at hearing her son's voice. "He sounds the same! Always full of questions," she said.

Agathe was answering him. "Oui, Marcel. My spell was able to override yours, you'll be glad to know. You can rest assured, you did not freeze Monsieur LeLoup to death."

"Thank you," Marcel whispered. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Agathe, for all you've done for both of us. And forgive me for last night. Robert, please forgive me."

"The hell are you talking about, _mon garçon_?" LeLoup scoffed, in a voice that though weak and strained, still held his humor. "You never hurt me. How could my angel across the hall ever hurt me? The great, mighty, monstrous _wolf_?"

"I froze you into a statue of ice," Marcel admitted. "I was certain I killed you."

"It's true, Monsieur LeLoup," said the frail, elderly Enchantress. "He defended himself by freezing you with a fatal spell. But my power kept you alive."

…

"It appears they are getting along," said Aloysius.

"He almost killed someone? _Who_?" Sabine said, shocked.

"I don't know, but from what the other prisoner said...he's a werewolf. Marcel must have had an understandable reason. He seems well...for now. Madame, I need those potions," Aloysius reiterated in a sober tone. "I just don't have time to collect ingredients and brew my own."

Sabine stood with a determined look on her face. "I'll get them for you right away!" she exclaimed.

...


	8. An Irate Relative

Alexis Sauvageon blinked his eyes a few times, trying to recall exactly where he was. Some dull, tiny guest room, it seemed.

Slowly, as he gained more consciousness, he recalled battling a man. Aloysius, a strange relative of his. He knew of his cousin, but Aloysius certainly never ran in Alexis' social circles. The man was known to be an oddball, a recluse who associated with _Sans-Magies_ more than he did with fellow wizards. He'd Age-Shifted so frequently that one could barely recall which incarnation of his was the real one. Much like his other odd Age-Shifting cousin, Agathe.

Apparently, Aloysius had cursed him with _Petrifier _and vanished from thin air. Alexis stood up and searched his pockets for his Mirror.__

____

____

It was gone. His wand? Gone.

He took off his coat and shook it, turning the pockets inside out, his confusion turning to rage. That damned thief! Even his pouch of Enchanted dust, that he needed for access into and out of the prison, was missing.

Alexis examined the room he'd been left in. The place was filled with things that appeared to belong to a woman- a few maid's dresses and other garments, tiny bottles of perfume, jars of cosmetics. They belonged to the _Sans-Magie_ girl who'd needed her memory obliterated. She must have worked as a maid of some kind.

He ransacked the room, looking everywhere for his stolen Magical effects. Within minutes, items were strewn all over the floor including womens' undergarments.

The lonely, lustful part of him was tempted to touch and feel them, but he refrained. The feminine clothes belonged to a member of that inferior group of humans, he didn't dare touch them. Feeling the fabric might just cause Alexis' powers to weaken. Minister Bertrand even held the theory if an Enchanter engaged in intimate relations with a Sans-Magie, it would drain him or her of power. He wasn't sure if it was true. It was likely bollocks, but he took no chances.

Alexis decided to try to call for a Summoning charm on his missing wand. _'Accés!'_ he mumbled quietly.

Two minutes passed. He repeated the word again and again, for five more minutes. No wand appeared. It had either been flung much too far away by Aloysius and could take over an hour to fly back to its master- or Aloysius had stolen it. He'd have to seek the man out again.

The idea alighted upon him that if an enemy had stolen his wand and important tools, Alexis would have a ready-made excuse for why he failed to report to Minister Bertrand and Officer Roux for wand analysis.

As an afterthought, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the image of the elegant rug before Minister Bertrand's office desk. The charm worked beautifully.

Alexis disappeared from that hotel room with a quiet swoosh sound that may have been heard by a _Sans-Magie_ in the hallway. The same moment, he appeared in front of the elaborately carved walnut desk of Minister Bartholomé Bertrand himself.

"Sauvageon! You have a great deal of explaining to do!" the Minister bellowed, his pale blue bugged eyes wide as saucers and his mouth in a pursed line.

The man's bald head was perfectly spherical, pale white, and resembled a cue ball in a game of billiards. With the Minister's less-than-attractive appearance, Alexis pondered why it was that so many women cooed and batted their eyes over Bertrand, including the magical envoy from faraway America, Elizabeth. She was sidled close to him at his desk, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.

When Alexis appeared, she gave him a bothered look and vanished from sight.

Alexis dropped to his knees. "My Lord Minister, please listen to my explanation. I regret to say that I was attacked. My wand, Mirror, and pouch of Access Dust were stolen by my cousin. He ambushed me and cursed me with _Petrifier."_

Bertrand scowled. "You lost a battle, then? Gave someone else the upper hand? Perhaps he needs to come here and be hired on as your replacement."

"My Lord, I tell you, he's a vile criminal. Aloysius Guérriseur is his name. He's the cousin of not only myself, but Agathe. He's practically her twin! He is an Age-Shifter, and just like her, he is an intimate associate with Sans-Magies."

Alexis counted off Aloysius' crimes on his fingers. "He freely performs his magic in front of them. He cast a smoke charm to blind me before he attacked me. In the presence of a _Sans-Magie,_ I must add! I couldn't fight him back, because of her being there. I plan to keep up my pursuit of him. Do you have any public records on the man?"

Bertrand's stern frown softened and he gave a pensive look. Waving his wand, he repeated the suspect's name. A portrait appeared before him in midair much like a hologram- a thin, pleasant looking man with receded salt-and-pepper hair. He held a slight smile; his squinty brown eyes gave him the air of mirthful humor. Phrases appeared beneath the man's headshot-

_Aloysius Armand Guérisseur. Born April 27, 1724. Graduate of the Great Académie of France, Class of 1742. Member of the House of the Butterfly. Occupation- Unknown._

Bertrand inquired this record he'd obtained by speaking directly to it. "Are there current or past criminal records on Guérisseur? Any known wand analysis?"

The word _Negative_ appeared in white script before the suspect's profile vanished like a ghost.

"I'll give you one more chance, Sauvageon," he said in resignation. "You may pursue this man, if anything to get your stolen items back."

"My Lord, is it possible that I could be issued a replacement wand?"

"No. When you catch him, I would hope you can pry your wand from his hands. I expect competence, Officer. Do not let this happen again. In fact, you are not to leave me until Officer Roux comes here to join you. He will be your constant partner, when you can show me your skills have improved, then you may work alone again. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Sauvageon said, ingratiated. "You are so kind, great Lord Minister." He bowed low to the rug, touching his nose to the fabric. "Merci beaucoup."

After a moment, Bertrand summoned Nicolas Roux to the office. The middle-aged man strode into the room, smirking with amusement when he saw his colleague on the floor. Realizing he must do the same, he bowed down to his Minister.

"Officers," Bertrand commanded. "This is the man I need to you to capture as soon as possible. He's a thief and a rebel." He waved his wand and showed Roux the profile of Aloysius.

…

"Maman, I'm telling you I wasn't there to see Emilie's wedding! I was in a coma, unconscious. I don't remember anything about being in attendance when she and Gaston got married!" Adelaide insisted to her mother.

"Ma petit, you are ill. Of course you went to the wedding! And you weren't in any coma two weeks ago when Papa and I came to the hotel to see you," Madame Fortier argued back. "You must lie down and rest and come to your senses!"

"Why don't I remember anything? Why did I wake up in the hotel with a half-dead man on the floor and my friend Aloysius saying I was in bed for weeks?" Adelaide shouted angrily.

"I do not know, and please stop raising your voice, Addie. It was none of my doing. Perhaps you just had too much wine lately."

"I barely ever drink wine, Maman!" Adelaide said, gesturing to the bottle of wine on the sideboard that she had snuck from the hotel. "Where is Emilie and Gaston's new home?"

"About twenty minutes to walk, just a few minutes' carriage ride. 102 Rue Thirteen. She would love to see you, but I would rather you wait until you are sound in mind," said Madame Fortier, putting a hand on Adelaide's forehead. "Are you staying for lunch?"

"Yes," Adelaide said, comforted by the thought of foods from home. "I can cook with you."

About an hour later, while Adelaide and her father and mother were finishing the last of the baguette slices over tea, a knock sounded at her door. Adelaide went down the rickety little staircase to the bottom floor to answer it.

"Bonjour, Toulouse!" Adelaide greeted the young man who worked as a bellboy. "I didn't tell you where I lived...not that I mind you visiting me or anything."

"I got help. I took a cab carriage, the driver knows your parents, he said," Toulouse explained.

"I'm surprised to see someone here from a job I didn't even know I was supposed to have."

"Well, Adelaide," the boy began awkwardly, a hand on the Magic Mirror in his pocket, "That is what I'm here to talk about. You see, I shared your job position while you were sick. So I was wondering if you want to go with me to meet up with Monsieur Aloysius. He has the funds to pay both you and I. I was paid for your cleaning. But- he wants to pay you for all the time you were in bed asleep."

"Really?" Adelaide said, surprised. "That is so kind of him! I think he must be more than just a desk concierge. I've seen his suite where he stayed. It was pretty fancy."

"Are you willing to come right now?" Toulouse insisted. "It's...important. You might lose an opportunity."

Adelaide balked, glancing up to where her parents were relaxing. "I was spending time with my folks. Would tomorrow be alright?"

"Uh...n-no," Toulouse stammered with nerves. "Monsieur Aloysius says it has to be right now. It's very, very important. Please come with me. I have a cab carriage!"

He pointed to the street, where a man sat holding the reins of a lightweight cab carriage pulled by a single grey roan horse. Adelaide's mouth fell open when she took a second look at the driver. He was a tall, sturdily-built man with a dark ponytail.

"Monsieur Luc!" she squealed in joy. "I- I mean- his real name is...oh, what is his real name?" she spluttered.

"Bonjour, Addie!" the man boomed out to her in a loud voice. It was none other than the redeemed, reformed, now-humble gentleman and transplanted resident of Paris- Gaston Legume.

"I'm Gaston!" he corrected her, thumb gesturing to his chest. He waved to her proudly with one large hand while the other held the reins, his grin as huge and infectious as she'd remembered. Adelaide's own brother in law. And she had completely forgotten that she had been the attendant to his wedding to her younger sister Emilie. She rushed to the carriage, the young fellow trailing behind. Gaston caught her in a bear hug.

"How is my favorite and only sister in law?" he boomed.

"I'm all right...considering the circumstances," she said, not sure how to explain. "Is Emilie at home?"

"Damn!" Gaston swore. "If only I knew that you were the passenger I was picking up! I could have had my wife join us. Yes, Addie- Emilie is at our new home, doing some sewing. I had to leave her side, unfortunately, to work my shift. Her new lady friends wanted me to stay. They can't get enough of me, I imagine. My wife is truly the luckiest girl in Paris."

"Why is that?" Toulouse asked in curiosity as the two took seats behind Gaston.

A lull in the conversation ensued before Gaston spoke. "I...well, because Emilie says she's the luckiest girl in Paris. She's...well, she's happy."

"Of course she's happy. She's married to you! A valiant, brave and dashing man!" Adelaide encouraged him.

Immediately, Gaston turned around and gave her a wistful smile. "I've missed you so much, Addie."

"I miss you and Emilie, too! We have to go see her later. I'm so glad I've recovered," said Adelaide, sitting next to a rather uncomfortable Toulouse.

He didn't expect the driver he'd hired to be an actual relative of Adelaide's. Now, she was liable to talk more nonsense to him under her Obliteration Curse.

"Recovered? From what? Lovelorn grief?" Gaston pondered aloud while he glanced again at the piece of paper with an address written on it.

"No, I was sick and unconscious in a coma, Luc- I mean Gaston! Did you and Emilie visit me while I was in that bed?"

"We saw you three weeks ago, Adelaide dear, and you were as fit as a sturdy little fiddle. I never heard you were ill. Emilie would have told me!"

"What? My parents just told me the same thing, that I wasn't ill and I'm not right in the head! But it has to be the truth! I don't remember going to your wedding...I don't remember anything since I was in Prince Adam's castle, when he locked you in his dungeon!"

"A prince locked you in a dungeon?" Toulouse said awkwardly.

Gaston's good mood soured. "An unfortunate circumstance, mon garçon. One I'd rather forget. Yes, I was locked in a Prince's dungeon in faraway Alsace."

"Those royals can be fairly nasty to commoners. Tyrants, many of them are," said Toulouse.

"Gaston, I'm sorry I missed the wedding," said Adelaide.

He turned around and gave her a perplexed look, his eyes narrowed. "Of course you didn't miss it, dear. You were our witness and you signed the marriage contract with us! You wore a blue dress that day. How could you not remember the happiest moment of your sister's life?"

"But I don't remember! It's all a blank!" Adelaide said, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "What the living hell is wrong with me?"

Toulouse struggled to keep a neutral face, his hand gripping the wand in his pocket. One more city block, and he would be able to deliver her to Aloysius to be cured. If she could only refrain from hysterics for just thirty seconds.

An audible groan of frustration came from Gaston in the driver's seat as he turned the corner to Rue Madeleine. "Well, I married into this family," he mumbled.

A few more paces of the horse, and they reached the address that Toulouse had given Gaston. "Here we are. 1344 Madeleine. Adelaide, dear, is there someone you and the boy are here to visit?" Gaston asked.

"It's work related, not social," said Toulouse nervously.

"Good!" said Gaston with a smirk. "You seem a bit young to be dating my sister. She's a fully grown woman, you see. She needs a man."

Toulouse's face turned beet red; he refused to look Adelaide in the eye.

"Gaston!" scolded Adelaide. "Toulouse, I'm so sorry. My brother in law does nothing but tease me about my love life, or my lack of one, actually."

When the two hopped off the carriage seat, Gaston dismounted and went to hug her again. He leaned down to her ear to whisper in secret, his tone kind and surprisingly gentle.

"I've been wondering how you've been getting along, Addie. Are you still lovelorn over...you know, the warlock?"

"Warlock?" Adelaide said, perplexed. "There's no such thing. What have you been drinking?" She smelled a whiff of ale on his breath.

"Yes, there are!" Gaston hissed in a tense whisper, his grip around her shoulders tightening. "It is the reason I'm alive and a reformed man today! Enchanters, Warlocks, whatever you call those people. Witchcraft and sorcery! You fell for one of them, remember? The black fellow. He was a warlock, Adelaide. He was displaying powers right in front of Prince-"

Toulouse took Adelaide by her elbow and tried to pull her from her irate relative. "Adelaide, we have to go. Alo- your manager is here at this house. You must go in straight away-"

"Gaston, are you talking about Marcel?" Adelaide said in irritation. "I suspect you have prejudices about people who aren't just like yourself. Accusing my friend of witchcraft just because he has a different skin color isn't very nice!"

"That's not true!" argued Gaston. "But the witchcraft is true!"

"Adelaide, please say adieu to your brother and let him go on with his job," Toulouse said in a pleading voice, pulling her elbow while Gaston let go of her shoulder.

"Where are you taking my sister, garçon?" Gaston pressed him.

"To get the payment she's owed. Our manager has money he can give her."

"This is someone's home!" Gaston said, his eyes narrowed. "Doesn't payroll at that hotel operate in the hotel? Why is it that I detect something sneaky about your attitude, young man? If you don't mind, I will escort my sister to the door and help her get her payment. If I'm not a bother to you, that is."

He moved closer to Toulouse, getting into his personal bubble of space with his large torso.

"No, I don't mind," Toulouse sighed and forced a smile. "No bother. You are her family, after all."

Gaston gently cradled Adelaide's arm and walked her ahead of him protectively. When they reached the door, Toulouse knocked.

The door next to a pot of violet and white blossoms opened and the pretty young girl, Monique, stuck her head out.

"Monsieurs? Madame?" she greeted. "Before I let you in, please tell me three Core Values of either the House of the Butterfly, or the House of the Five Leaves."

Toulouse did not miss a beat. "I am from Five Leaves," he said proudly. "Bravery, Loyalty, and Care of Flora and Fauna. Respecting the balance of nature."

"Wands?" she asked, holding out a petite hand in expectation.

"Um…" Toulouse faltered. He glanced back at Adelaide and Gaston. "These two...um, she has to be let in. But he's a relative and he insists on coming. I...I don't know. Um, is your aunt here?"

"Are they _Sans-Magie?"_ Monique asked.

"Oui."

"Hello, young Mademoiselle," said Gaston to the girl. "Are you the daughter of the house?"

"Magie?" Adelaide wondered out loud. "We don't have magic. What do you mean? Toulouse, who is this little girl?" She studied Monique's pretty dark features. "You look familiar somehow. Bonjour. My name is Adelaide."

She smiled kindly, as she was always fond of children. Monique was an older child, on the cusp of young maidenhood. Adelaide was struck by the girl's intelligent and merry brown eyes, rimmed with ebony lashes. She'd seen eyes like that before. She'd known and liked people with that same brown skin tone and features as well. A family resemblance. It finally dawned upon her. The girl did resemble Marcel and perhaps even his sister Plumette, the castle maid she'd met right before she fell into a coma! The thought alighted upon her, filling her with hope of reuniting with her gentleman friend. Was this his home?

"Sweetie, do you have a big brother who lives here by any chance?" she blurted. "One who drives carriages?" She glanced up at Gaston. "Gaston!" she exclaimed. "You drive a carriage for a salary now! You must have seen Marcel around the city!"

The young girl frowned. "That's my cousin's name."

"Adelaide," Gaston said, trying to reason. "I thought he'd been sent to prison. Unless he was lucky enough to be freed since then-"

"Monsieur, you know my cousin in prison? What have you heard?" Monique chimed in.

"You're related to that warlock, little girl? It figures! How many of you are there?" Gaston bellowed. "There's _sorcery_ here, Adelaide! I told you it was better you steer clear of it! It can be life-changing, but there is danger in it! Too much danger for a woman such as yourself. Thank God I found myself here, you needed me to protect you."

"Gaston, will you stop?" Adelaide shouted back. "No, I don't need your protection right now! Quit being an arrogant twit. Mon Dieu, you're impossible!"

 _Merlin aide moi,_ Toulouse pleaded to the great Wizard of history. He had lost control of the two _Sans-Magies,_ one of whom Aloysius had assigned to take here to cure her curse. He stood silent, not knowing what to do, hoping Aloysius was present in Madame Sabine's home. He did not want to reveal his wand in front of this Gaston fellow. The _Sans-Magie_ man had a brash and somewhat volatile temperament. His hazel-green eyes were fierce and fiery, though mixed with alarm. He was certainly one of them who feared magic, had seen its power. He was Exposed. The man they spoke of named Marcel must have been the one to Expose to him. It was likely the reason he was in prison.

The last thing eighteen-year-old Toulouse wanted was to join that other man in La Maison for the same thing. He was beyond relieved when Aloysius finally showed up at the door behind the girl.

"No need for wands! I can vouch for you. Bonjour, Toulouse. and Adelaide, dear! And...oh. Well, hello, Gaston," said Aloysius, a bit of nervous surprise flashing in his eyes. "Please come in."

The three were welcomed inside the home, and were greeted by Madame Sabine striding gracefully from her kitchen bearing a tray of teacups. Today she was wearing a dress adorned with white feathers, much like her daughter in the portrait.

"Bonjour, friends of Aloysius! Would you fine people care for a cup of tea?"

Gaston waved his hand casually. "I don't care for tea. I'm just here with my sister. Sister in law, that is. But thank you, Madame."

"No worries. We have warm milk as well. Monique, set out the biscuits, si vous plait?"

"Yes, Auntie!" said the girl.

"Make yourselves comfortable, you three," said Sabine. "Hello, Toulouse, mon enfant. How is your mother?"

"She's doing well," said Toulouse, now a little less frazzled.

"I'll be right back," Sabine said with a raised pointer finger, and she swept back into her kitchen with Aloysius following her.

…

As soon as they were in privacy, Sabine took a vial of golden liquid from her cupboard. "It's the lady, correct?"

"Yes, Madame. My friend Adelaide who I told you about. Sweet young woman. In fact, she's acquainted with your boy. She's a friend of of both Marcel and myself, actually."

"That is good to know," Sabine said, holding the potion vial tightly in her hands. "I imagine he met her back when he drove carriages. Now, he usually didn't like the _Sans-Magies_ he drove, I'm surprised. Most of them treated him like dirt on the bottom of their shoes."

"Adelaide is quite fond of your son," Aloysius said with a grin.

Sabine smiled with tearing eyes. "And why wouldn't she? Marcel was the handsomest of all the cab-driving men in Paris," she said with pride. "He never believed me, though. Modest to a fault. Speaking of handsome men, who is that _Sans-Magie?_ Is he authorized?" she whispered.

"Well, no," said Aloysius. "I let him in anyway, I know the man. His name is Gaston, he's Adelaide's brother in law. I know him fairly well. He's harmless despite his imposing presence. He was...well, I don't know if it will make you pity him, but he was...yet another victim of Agathe."

"He was?" Sabine exclaimed in a whisper. "Curse Agathe! So he's Exposed. And the young woman as well?"

"Yes, but she needs the Memory Potion to be reminded. Her memory, as I told you before, was set back. She was actually willing to join the ERA, just because of her friendship with your son. She wants him out of that prison as much as you, Madame."

"How kind of her," Sabine poured the potion into a teacup on the sideboard. She added a few cubes of sugar, dissolving them in it. "A spoonful of sucre helps the potion go down!" she whispered.

"In the most delightful way!" said Aloysius as he watched her take a teapot from a cast iron stove. He noticed her talking out a second vial of potion, putting it into a glass of milk along with a sugar cube.

In the sitting room, the three quests sat quietly. Gaston sat with his arms crossed surveying the room with a hawkish eye. He caught sight of the poster of the Boule de Plume sports team.

"Addie! Isn't that your boyfriend in the portrait? On the front right?" he pointed out.

"Mon Dieu...it is...wait, he's not my boyfriend!" Her cheeks flushed. "We were only just friends. Just getting acquainted. So this is his family! And there's Madame Plumette in the other picture!"

"Look at that group portrait closer, Addie!" Gaston said in a stage whisper. "Marcel and the others are all holding broomsticks! Witches' broomsticks as weapons! He was a member of some warlock army. Mon Dieu!"

"Oh! I think you could be right!" Adelaide exclaimed.

Sabine bustled in that moment, holding a single teacup and glass of milk. She poured the tea into the potion-filled teacup and handed it to Adelaide immediately. She gave the milk to Gaston.

"Thank you, Madame," said Gaston, remembering his manners.

"Merci, Madame," Adelaide said, sipping the tea. It was not very hot; rather lukewarm and very sweet. She found herself thirsty and drained the cup within moments.

Her heart skipped a beat as she focused again on the poster of the group of young men holding brooms. She stood and looked at it closely. As realization swept over her, her heart was pierced with fresh, bitter sorrow. Her dear Marcel, her magical friend and hopeless crush, dragged to prison by another wizard for doing magic in front of her. He'd brought Lorette the kitten back to life after she drowned in that river.

As she glanced around the room, she saw movement near the stairs. A golden beige cat came out of hiding. "Lorette!" She set the teacup down and rushed to cradle her little cat. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned her gaze to Madame Sabine. "Are you his Maman?"

"Yes, I am. And we have a rescue mission to begin. Your memory curse has been broken, Mademoiselle Adelaide," she declared. She glanced over at Gaston. He was slumped on the couch, sleeping with his mouth open. His glass of milk was empty.

"A little sound nap never hurt anyone," Sabine told Aloysius.

Just then, the front window of the sitting room shattered into pieces, spilling glass upon the floor. The women screamed in shock.

Sauvageon, accompanied by his fellow officer, Roux, materialized before them.

...


	9. Wizard Battle, Part Deux

Adelaide gave a frightened gasp as the glass window shattered, and the two men appeared from nowhere. It was that man again. She remembered him now; his blond ponytail, his cruel sneer, the cut inflicted on her arm.

Her heart pounded in her chest as they advanced. She saw Sabine, Toulouse, and Aloysius reaching for their wands- long wooden sticks they'd drawn from their clothing pockets. She heard Monique screaming.

Officer Roux shouted a strange spellword that caused Aloysius' wand to fly out of his hand and soar across the room, clattering to the floor.

"Aloysius Guérriseur, your tricks are done," said Roux. "We are taking you to _La Maison pour Crimes Noirs_ immediately. Surrender or suffer curses!" he commanded, with Sauvageon nodding at his side.

Sabine held onto Monique protectively. "Please don't start a fight, gentlemen. There's a child in the room. Allow me to take her out to safety," she implored.

"Madame, you may take the child and go," said Roux. He waved his wand towards where Aloysius' wand lay on the floor, and it soared like a bird into his other hand; he pocketed it.

"Should we check the identities of this woman and the girl before they go?" Sauvageon interjected.

"We have no time for that. We came for Guérriseur, that is all!" Roux corrected him.

Adelaide felt relief when Sabine and Monique disappeared from the room with a soft whoosh sound. She noticed Sauvageon averting his eyes from Aloysius to glance down at her brother in law. "Who is this?" he mumbled.

Gaston was still sound asleep, dead to the world, on Madame Sabine's settee. Adelaide didn't plan to say what she said. Impulse made her spit out the words before she even realized they'd left her mouth.

"Don't wake him, messieurs! Don't you realize who he is?" she cried out.

"Officer, that woman is a _Sans-Magie,_ she's nothing. She's speaking nonsense," said Sauvageon, wandless but holding his right hand outward, prepared to defend himself if needed.

Roux sneered at the young woman. "Who is he, then? Clearly he's been given sleeping potion."

Adelaide glanced at Aloysius and Toulouse; their gazes were steadily trained on their enemies. Toulouse held out his wand, and Aloysius, just like Sauvageon, held his hand out in defense.  
"He's a very powerful wizard! He'll fight to the death for us!" Adelaide insisted.

Sauvageon narrowed his eyes. "We know every pure-heritage Enchanter in all France, you silly girl. I've never seen that man before. And furthermore, you need to go back among your own kind of people! Why do I keep seeing you?"

"He's an English wizard!" Adelaide replied, again on a whim.

"What is his name, then?" Roux inquired. Both officers glared at Adelaide, shifting back and forth between her and Gaston's sleeping form. Her mind searched quickly for names that sounded English. "John Smith."

"John Smith?" Roux repeated.

"Oui, Monsieur," Adelaide affirmed with a convincing nod.

"There is a Welsh wizard named John Smith. Former professional _Boule de Plume_ player. Battle master. Never met him, but I've heard the name," said Roux, his wand lowering. "That man does look like a Welshman-"

" _Des abeilles!"_ Toulouse shouted, his wand fixed on the two men while they were distracted. A swarm of bees shot from the tip of his wand. Sauvageon and Roux were caught off guard by the buzzing insects crawling over their clothing, their hands, their faces.

Adelaide was shocked at the cruelty of the spell. "Toulouse, you're going to hurt them!"

 _"Petrifier!"_ shouted Toulouse, aiming his wand at Roux. Like Aloysius, he chose the most humane attack curse. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious. Toulouse released the spell of the bees, and the buzzing swarm disappeared.

Sauvageon had put a wandless shield spell around himself. He was uninjured by the bees, but his partner was down. Enraged, he shouted a curse spellword that Adelaide did not understand, waving his arm madly in Aloysius' and Toulouse's direction. The curse appeared to hit Toulouse. Adelaide saw the young man's shirt sleeve tear open and blood to drip from his upper arm. _'Owww!'_ he shouted.

"John! Monsieur Smith! Please wake up!" Adelaide shouted to the sleeping Gaston, still trying to cause a distraction. She was increasingly terrified. Gaston was no wizard. He had brute strength and quick fists, that she knew from experience having seen him fight men before. But it was clear he could be no match for sorcery if he were to wake up.

Aloysius and Toulouse dropped to their knees on the floor, placing their hands above their heads. Toulouse lay his wand on the floor before him.

"You're giving up? It's two of you against one now!" Adelaide exclaimed in terror. "Three against one if John Smith wakes-"

"Alexis...cousin...I admit defeat," Aloysius said quietly to Sauvageon. "I surrender."

Sauvageon gave a small smile in triumph. He took several steps forward and bent down, almost kindly, to help Toulouse up with his bleeding arm. He motioned to Aloysius to stand. Adelaide's heart sank. Another friend was about to be whisked away to magical prison, never to be seen again.

"Aloysius Guérisseur, and- please state your name!" Sauvageon commanded to the panting boy.

"Toulouse Alain Granger," Toulouse coughed out, clutching his bleeding arm with his palm. Sauvageon put his hand on the slim young man's upper arm, and he was immediately healed, all blood stains on his sleeve disappearing to Adelaide's shock.

"Merci," Toulouse mumbled.

"Your surname is not recognizable to me as that of a pure-heritage Enchanter," Sauvageon said to him in contempt. _"Sang-Sale,_ no doubt!"

Adelaide felt the angry urge to tell Sauvageon, 'I suppose as a _Sans-Magie_ I wasn't human enough for you to do the same!' but she remained quiet and still, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She did not want Gaston to wake now. Knowing her brother in law, the fact he'd once been a hero of the Seven Years' War, he'd be rather peeved to know there was a battle right in front of him, and he didn't have the skills to participate.

"Guérisseur and Granger- you are both in my custody and will be immediately taken to _La Maison pour Crimes Noirs,_ for multiple offenses!" Sauvageon declared. After taking possession of Toulouse's wand, he took hold of both men's shoulders. "The Great Atrium of _Le Ministère,"_ he added, concentrating on his destination.

"Aloysius!" Adelaide cried as the three vanished. "No...please, no!" Adelaide fought back tears. She was standing in the home of what she now knew to be her dear friend Marcel Clement's mother, but the woman and her niece had left. Her other wizard friends were now gone to the same fate Marcel had gone before.

Roux lay unconscious on the floor, face down. His magic wand, about ten inches long with a swordlike carved handle, lay a short distance from his hand where it had fallen. Adelaide had the curious urge to pick it up or touch it. She didn't. Instead, she went to sit near her sleeping brother in law, tugging on his arm. She had to get him to leave this house. She hoped he didn't notice the Petrified man lying there once he gained consciousness.

"Gaston? Gaston! You're late for work. Your cab carriage is still outside- wake up, you big dolt! Ugh!" She tried tweaking his nose, but his sleep was sound.

After a few stress-filled moments, she heard a woman's voice behind her. "Mademoiselle?" She turned to see that Madame Sabine and Monique had returned to their home without making a sound.

"Madame! How did you…"

"Magically, of course, petit. It's the easiest way to travel," the woman said kindly.

"It gives me a stomachache!" Monique complained, her pretty face in a scowl of discomfort. She went to plop down in a chair. Her blue dress and petticoat were wrinkled and untidy from whatever Magical travel she'd just endured. The girl gaped in horror at the stiff man on the floor.

"Auntie, please get this Petrified man out of here! I'm scared!"

"I will right away, Monique. Please be brave, child. And I will need to awaken the gentleman on the sofa and let him be on his way," Sabine assured, speaking as if having a 'Petrified' man and a soundly sleeping stranger in her home were just as commonplace as the mail carrier's visit. "Have a cookie on the table, ma petite."

Monique took a jam-filled cookie from the plate on the table and bit into it nervously, her brown eyes like saucers at the fallen Roux.

"It's hard for me to get used to people...coming and going so quickly," Adelaide said, trying to make awkward conversation. "But I'm glad to meet you," she continued, putting on a friendly smile. "My name is Adelaide Fortier. I'm a friend of Aloysius. And your son Marcel. I'm sorry to say this, but...Aloysius and Toulouse have just been taken to the prison."

"No need to panic, Mademoiselle Adelaide. I will take care of things," said Sabine.

Adelaide was perplexed as to how the lady could 'take care' in such dire circumstances. She watched Sabine walk over to Gaston on the couch, and pull her own magic wand from her dress pocket. It was clear that female Enchantresses all had special pockets sewn into their gowns, just for wand storage. It was intriguing to say the least.

"He's my brother in law Gaston. My sister Emilie's husband. He needs to go back to work soon, or he'll be fired," she explained.

"I see," Sabine said, looking down at the sleeping man. Adelaide looked on, comforted with the knowledge that this was dear Marcel's Maman, as well as the Maman of her friend Plumette from the Prince's castle. She could definitely believe it, noting the older woman's dark-skinned, slender, graceful beauty. It was clear to see where both Plumette and Marcel had received their good looks. She knew she herself couldn't compare. Even in her flattering burgundy dress and curled hair, she felt like a pale, plain, fat dumpling in comparison.

" _Éveiller,_ Monsieur," Sabine said in a warm and kind voice. Gaston's eyes opened and blinked. He glanced around the room.

"What the hell? Adelaide?"

"Gaston, you were sleeping for a while. Your carriage and horses are waiting. Hurry, though," Adelaide said to him, mirroring the calm manner of the Enchanted woman, though her own voice was nowhere near as confident.

Gaston rose to his full height. And with no doubt on Adelaide's part, he was very quick to spot the man named Roux on the floor. "Who killed this man?" he growled.

"He's not dead, Gaston-"

"Adelaide, since when have you become the medical expert, dear sister? I know a dead man when I see one. I served in a war once!"

He kicked one booted toe at Roux's form; the man was as stiff as a log. "I'm reporting this to the city law enforcement, straight away!"

"Gaston!" Adelaide shouted in protest. Her brother in law strode to the front door, slamming it behind him as he left. Outside the broken window, she saw him run to his parked cab carriage. He attempted to control the two hungry, protesting horses, who bucked and neighed until they finally pulled the carriage once Gaston slapped the leather reins several times in frustration. She could hear him cursing in fury as the carriage rolled away.

"Damned cursed warlocks and witches! This is all I need now!"

"What do we do, Madame?" Adelaide asked, turning from the glass-shattered window. "I'm so sorry! Toulouse was the one who put the spell on that man-"

"It's all under control, child," said Sabine.

"Auntie knows what she's doing...I hope," Monique added in a tense voice. "I don't want to look at him like that! Oh, Auntie Sabine, he looks really, really dead. Like the _Sans-Magie_ man said! He's going to get you in trouble now!"

"No worries, ma petite," Sabine said. She mumbled a spell as she waved her wand around her in an arc. Adelaide noticed the walls of the room sparkle for a split second.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Concealment charm."

"Oh."

Sabine walked to the prone form of Roux and bent down. She pocketed his wand, as well as the wand he'd taken from Aloysius. She went through his coat pockets until she found a pouch filled with what looked like powder.

"What's that, Auntie?" Monique asked. "Is it medicine to make him better?"

"Monique, please. No questions right now. I'm trying to think!"

She stared at Roux for several moments. Adelaide caught the young girl's eye, they exchanged looks of worry. Sabine gave her wand a flick and conjured a little pair of silver scissors. She removed Roux's fashionable, curled white wig. Then, she snipped a few locks of sparse brown hair from his balding head, holding the hairs in her palm.

"Auntie, are you-"

"Shh! I'm thinking!" She looked at Adelaide. "Mademoiselle- did Toulouse have his magic wand when Sauvageon took him?"

"Non, Madame. Sauvageon took his wand away. They gave themselves up! They could have fought more, I don't understand-"

"Was Aloysius still wearing that silver wig?"

"Yes. It was odd, I've never seen him wear wigs before. He looks better and younger without one," she told her.

Adelaide, like any common-born maiden, associated men's' wigs with wealth and high society just like the Marquis she once served. When she saw Aloysius finally wearing one, she had the thought he'd been hiding his true status and origin. Perhaps he was a criminal according to the Magical world.

"Merci, dear. That's good to know," Sabine replied, her eyes closing with relief. "I'll send this officer away now." She pointed her wand at Roux and he vanished from sight.

"Where did he go?" asked Monique.

"I'll show you," Sabine said, reaching into the other pocket in the folds of her gown and pulling out a small Magic Mirror. "Look."

Adelaide and Monique gasped. Roux's lifeless-looking body was now reclined on a bench in the middle of the Seine park. In public. His clothing had changed from a fine suit to torn, dirty rags. A newspaper covered his face.

"He'll be completely ignored," said Sabine. "No Sans-Magie I've ever met has charity in their hearts for beggars and street layabouts of their kind. Not even my husband! The poor man will wake after several hours, unless someone decides to bury him alive."

"I'm _Sans-Magie_ and I've been charitable to the very poor," Adelaide protested. "A few times. When I have a spare sou-"

"Now...for the difficult part," Sabine cut her off. "Monique, I want you to stay with Mademoiselle Adelaide. Adelaide, if you want to take Monique out for a walk outside that would be good, or you two may rest here. I am about to do something that is very risky."

"Risky? Auntie Sabine, please don't leave us here!" Monique protested.

"I must, child. You are thirteen years old, a big girl now. And I trust her. Adelaide, you strike me as a pure, kindhearted young lady," Sabine looked into Adelaide's eyes, almost seeming to read into her personality and soul. "Any friend of my Marcel's is a friend of mine. I've decided to help Aloysius and I'm going to attempt to rescue my son. And anyone else I can rescue from that horrible prison. Today!"

"What?" Adelaide exclaimed.

" _Auntie, no!"_ Monique started to cry. Adelaide put a comforting arm around the girl.

Sabine, clutching the lock of Officer Nicolas Roux's hair in her palm, went into the kitchen. She came out holding a bottle of yellowish colored potion.

"It's dangerous! Can't you ask someone else to do it?" Monique sobbed. Adelaide and Monique watched, barely breathing, as Madame Sabine opened the cork on the bottle and dropped the hairs inside. The liquid inside bubbled up; a few drops of foam escaped from the top and drizzled over. Its color changed from light yellow to muddy brown.

"Monique, honey...have you learned about the Potion of Dupliquer? Did they talk about it in school last year?" Sabine asked her niece.

"N-no," Monique said in a stammer, twisting a long curl of her dark hair around her finger nervously. "It was only my second year. We learned to make healing potions. That was all. Professeur Travers says we won't be old enough to work with other potions until we're sixteen."

"Then what you are about to see, may scare you. I'm very sorry, honey."

Adelaide's heart began to pound.

Sabine drank the potion, her eyes watering from the unpleasant taste. When she put the empty bottle down, she tried to hold back a choking cough. She grimaced in discomfort, and her appearance began to change before Adelaide's and Monique's eyes. She grew taller. Her skin paled. Within ten seconds, instead of Monique's beloved Auntie, there stood the man known as Nicolas Roux, officer of the law for _Le Ministère._

"Where's my Auntie? What did you do with her?" screamed Monique. Adelaide gasped.

"It is still me, ma petite," the man said in Madame Sabine's voice. "I must go."

The person, whether or not that person was Roux or Sabine- vanished from the air, leaving Adelaide and Monique completely alone. The girl was sobbing. Adelaide's motherly instincts took over and she embraced her tightly as if she were her own child.

"Monique, let's go out and walk. We could go to my parents' house and have tea with them. My Maman loves children. As long as you don't do any magic in front of her."

"I'm not allowed to do magic yet," Monique said, wiping an eye. "Only in school. I wish I were there now. What if my Auntie doesn't come back?"

"Honey...where are your parents?"

"My Maman and Papa have gone to England to escape the...the Magical government. I wish they could be here!"

"Let's go outside, Monique. All we can do now is wait." Adelaide took the small girl's hand in hers, guiding her out the door.

...

A few hours later that evening, Gaston had given the Paris law officers the address to Madame Sabine's home. He personally led a policeman to the same block of Rue Madeleine, looking for the address, the building with the number 1344. When they arrived, Gaston pointed out two similarly styled buildings, 1343 and 1345.

"It should be here," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"Monsieur, you must be mistaken," the policeman said. "The addresses are all odd numbers on this side of the street, it looks like. But I don't know, I'm new to Paris. Just got the job."

Gaston glanced on the other side of the street. The building numbers were all in the 1330s. A few children played happily across from them, kicking small balls. Two older women sat upon the steps, chatting. A few birds were heard on the rooftops. It was a humble and plain neighborhood, yet pleasant.

"But it was just here! I was just inside the place! 1344 Madeleine, I swear! There were all kinds of...purple flowers in front of the house!" Gaston looked back and forth. There were no homes with purple flowers. "Maybe it was the other block!" They walked over to the next block. The building numbers were in the 1400's, and there were no flowers to be seen, purple or any other color.

"But the building was here! I swear it! The woman living there planted purple flowers!" Gaston yelled.

"Perhaps you should go home and rest, Monsieur," said the police patrol man. "It wasn't anyone you knew who died anyway. People die. Fact of life." He patted Gaston's shoulder in a rather condescending way.

"I know," Gaston said, trying to control his temper. "I fought in a war!" Reluctantly, he gave up his mission to catch a murderer and found his way home shortly after. Emilie greeted him at the door with a loving embrace and kiss. "Is everything all right? You seem troubled," she asked him.

"It's your sister. She's still getting caught up in sorcery and she won't stay away from those freak people!" he lamented, now sad more than angry.

"Gaston, she fell in love. Simple as that. And from what I remember, he wasn't a 'freak.' He was a sweet man," Emilie argued.

"But a lot of the others are!" he shot back. "Let's go to your parents' house and tell them. This is serious, ma cherie. There are a lot of bad apples in the warlock world, and Adelaide is too naive to understand that!"

He sighed in frustration while Emilie embraced him, planting kisses on his cheek, not wanting to admit she was getting worried as well.

...


	10. Incognito

Sauvageon had taken Aloysius and Toulouse in his custody. Within moments, he'd whisked them away from the woman's home. The three of them re-materialized at the Great Atrium of _Le Ministère._

An elegant marble fountain towered before them; an alabaster Grecian-style statue of a barely-clothed woman, holding a gold-plated wand in one of her outstretched hands. At her feet was a pool of bubbling water. Sauvageon forced the two men to step into the pool. They did so quietly and obediently, before the officer himself stepped in. Their shoes and stockings became soaked.

Sauvageon reached into his pocket and took out his pouch of Enchanted dust, which Bertrand had supplied him with in his office. He took a small handful of the reddish brown powder and dropped it in. The color of the water changed, from its natural reflective clear color to a blood red. In an instant, the three wizards transported once again. They stood together inside a large copper basin at the end of a darkened hallway.

"Step forward," Sauvageon ordered, taking each new prisoner by the elbow on each side. They stepped out of the basin, splashing some water on the floor, and walked down the torch-lit corridor. As their eyes adjusted, they were met with magical creature guardians. A huge black cat with blue glowing eyes approached them, hissing.

Sauvageon held his arm out and attempted a wandless spell to repel the animal, but the creature continued to advance and hiss louder, much to his frustration. Footsteps sounded from further down the hallway, and a guard appeared.

"Sauvageon- what are you doing here? We were told you were under observation by our Lord Minister!" the man said. He sent a shock with his wand to the cat, it howled and backed away.

"Our Lord Minister Bertrand has full trust in me, Claude! Allow me and my prisoners through."

"Chief Jailer Beaufort has informed me that until I get the message from Lord Minister or Officer Roux, we are not authorized to let you incarcerate anyone."

"Roux was with me when I apprehended these men," Sauvageon argued back. "He was on his way here, but...something came up," he faltered. "Now take these men and confiscate their wands and possessions!"

Aloysius looked over at the frightened Toulouse, just behind Sauvageon's shoulder. He tried to give the boy an encouraging look. He pointed a finger to his head, and Toulouse nodded, calmly.

A 'whoosh' sound came from behind them, the sound of someone else transporting by magic. The guard Claude widened his eyes in recognition of the newest person stepping from the copper water basin, which served as the entry and exit point of _La Maison pour Crimes Noirs._

"Officer Roux! I am glad you are here to solve this little confusion we're having!" he greeted.

…

Agathe, Marcel, and Robert were descending into apathy as their imprisonment wore on. Marcel's initial joy at LeLoup's-or Robert's- survival had brought him relief and some renewed strength, but it was now his fourth morning without food. He lay quietly, a passive listener to the conversation between Agathe and Robert in which he had no energy to join.

"I cannot tell you whether or not I have fallen in love, because for one, I am not certain. And two, that is not your business, dear," the old woman insisted.

"Everyone falls in love at least once in their life, Mademoiselle!" Robert proclaimed. "I am doomed, but at least I can say I once loved and lost. I never held anything against my Marie. She simply could not handle the danger of my condition."

"I am sorry for your unfortunate circumstances," said Agathe. "As much as I often feel sorry for myself. No one wins or triumphs in a place like this. I suppose...the best we can all do is to await death with honor. I only wish my own death can come before that of you two boys." Her frail voice broke with emotion, causing a flash of indignant anger on the part of her werewolf neighbor over their shared fate.

"But Agathe, don't you have any family up there?" Robert asked her. "Loved ones missing you? And I mean family members besides the one who threw you in here to rot!"

"I do. A cousin," she replied quietly. "He and I were as close as siblings. Part of me holds a small hope that he is working to free me."

Robert scoffed. "You have a cousin who you think can free you? How powerful a wizard is he? He would need to be even more powerful than the 'Lord Minister' and his entire council. What is his talent?"

"He has two main talents," replied Agathe. "Potions and Age-Shifting. But what's more, he is a clever man and very unassuming. He has spent the last years incognito among _Sans-Magies,_ just as I had been. Living on the fringes in Paris, while I had been spending my time in the more provincial parts of France."

Robert paused for a moment. He glanced over at Marcel, who lay with his face to a wall. "Are you awake over there, mon ami?"

"I am. Uh, Mademoiselle Agathe?" Marcel asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you speaking of Aloysius?"

"I am," replied Agathe.

"He's well acquainted with my mother."

"That's nice to know, Marcel," Agathe replied. To Marcel, her tone seemed dismissive, as if he were just a dumb little boy. He sat up slowly, wincing in pain as his stomach cried out for sustenance.

"You don't even know who my mother is, do you?" he said with ire. "Sabine-Marie Clement Djokoto. She was a great Potions Mistress. Of course, she did not go to the Acadèmie as a girl, because she grew up in Africa. But she had plenty of time to perfect her work."

"I have not heard of her," Agathe said. "But then you must remember I have lived among _Sans-Magies_ for over the last ten years."

"And so has my mother. She's married to one now. If she and Aloysius are associating together...with their potions and all, well...maybe…" Marcel sighed and let his thought trail.

"Forget it, mon ami," said Robert. "No one will be able to break into this prison to find any of us! Remember the dust they put in that pool up there? Made the water turn to blood red and became a portal? Is that what Sauvageon did to bring you here?"

"Yes," Marcel recalled. "First I was transported to _Le Ministère's_ headquarters. There was a big fountain pool, with a statue. Sauvageon took some dust or powder out of his pocket. It looked like...cinnamon, or some kind of red spice." He paused to swallow, the memory of his mother's cinnamon-covered croissants filling him with longing. "Sauvageon dropped it in the pool, and as soon as the water turned to blood, we were transported down here. It's not as if anyone from above can walk down a staircase to get to this prison."

Agathe nodded. "It isn't as if the guards and officers would give their precious dust to anyone. It would have to be stolen. But I am not sure that Aloysius would be someone to steal it. He's never seemed brave enough."

That moment, the three of them heard a great commotion coming from down the hallway. The squalls of giant cats, the cracks of wands, yells of men. Sets of footsteps pounded down the far staircase of their cell block and grew closer.

"Who the hell is that?" Robert growled. "A new arrival? Must be fighting off the guards, poor unfortunate soul. Wonder who he is?"

He, Agathe, and Marcel caught sight of three individuals as they approached their glass cells, running frantically. The newcomers stopped and turned to look at the inmates. Marcel recognized two of the men. Officer Roux, the one Ministry agent who had always seemed to be above Sauvageon in rank. The other was Aloysius. A small-framed boy of about eighteen was with them.

"Agathe!" cried Aloysius. "We're breaking you out. And you as well, Monsieur Clement!"

"Aloysius? How did you...?" Agathe cried out. She caught sight of Officer Roux, who to her disbelief, pointed his wand straight at Marcel's wall and caused the glass of his cell to vanish.

Another loud crack sounded behind the new arrivals. The youngest man had sent a killing electric shock to one of the _Centipedes Gras._ The creature fell away, its loathsome body charred like a burned sausage.

Marcel, in his confusion, did not understand what was going on. Why was Officer Roux opening up his cell wall, instead of swiftly locking up Aloysius and his companion? The thought came to him that perhaps there was no more room in the prison, and they needed to resort to double occupancy. As much company as Robert and Agathe gave him, having Aloysius in their midst would be welcome. Perhaps the man could sneak him some food if he lived with him…

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of the aging Ministry agent's arms embracing him. He recoiled and tried to push the man away. "What? Get away!" he said in irritation. 

Officer Roux pulled back and stared at Marcel, eye to eye. The man was about Marcel's height of five foot eleven or so, and his eyes were bloodshot. He reached up to his own shirt collar and tugged it aside, pulling out a necklace he was wearing. It was a necklace bearing an amethyst butterfly charm. His Maman always wore one exactly like it, and his little cousin Monique wore a similar one as well. It represented his school division, the House of the Butterfly.

"So you're from my own school House?" Marcel scoffed, still trying to back away from the stony-mannered agent, who'd had Sauvageon as his sidekick for the last several years. "I would have thought you were a Shadow Moon, like Sauvageon and most of Le Ministère's swine. That doesn't prove you're sympathetic! Even Butterfly and Five Leaves members can be vile supremacists!"

"You haven't lost your spirit, Marcel," Roux whispered to him in what sounded almost like a feminine whisper. "You are free. We have no time to waste, come with me!"

Roux then grasped his hand as if he were four years old, and tugged him out into the hallway. Marcel saw Robert sitting in his cell, the big man looking like a wounded, forlorn wolf.

"Robert!" Marcel exclaimed. "Officer, please- take him out as well. He deserves a chance to live!" he said, pointing at his friend. Roux gave in to Marcel's request. He pointed his wand at Robert Lefebrve's glass wall, and it vanished.

Aloysius, standing in the hall and now in possession of a wand, began to yell in anxious haste. "Agathe! Clement! And you!" he shouted to Robert. "Come with us! Run! Hurry! We have no time to waste!" With that command, Aloysius began to run back down the hall, followed by Toulouse who held Agathe by the elbow trying to tug the old woman along.

"I'm freed?" Robert said with a furrowed brow, dumbfounded. Roux reached out and clutched the man's shoulder with his other hand, yanking him from his longtime home as he stepped out- for the first time in years. Roux rushed Robert along the corridor.

Marcel could barely walk in his famished, weakened state. He quickly found himself being manhandled and half-dragged by the burly wolf man. As they passed the glass cells which held the other unfortunate inmates, he was shocked to see Sauvageon inside the cell at the very end. The officer screamed and pounded the glass with his fists in fury when he saw Marcel being half-walked, half-carried by the sturdy werewolf.

"Clement!" Sauvageon bellowed.

"Ignore him," Aloysius said with firmness. "He can stay there for now."

Marcel felt a bittersweet tinge of pity at the sight of the man he'd once obeyed and admired. The screaming faded. He felt Robert pulling his left arm up so that he was supported on the big man's right shoulder as he was dragged along.

"I finally get the pleasure of touching you," said Robert with a smirk as they followed Roux, Aloysius and the others to the bottom of a winding iron staircase.

"Shut up," Marcel retorted.

Roux turned for a moment and faced them. "Did I hear you say 'shut up'?'" he asked in what clearly sounded like a woman's voice. "Language, mon petit!"

Marcel's mouth went wide. There was no way! Could it possibly be?

Relief and joy surged through the whole of his being, as the group climbed, Agathe and Marcel with help, up the staircase. They took a left turn, led by Aloysius and Toulouse. They raced along another corridor, dragging one another into the dark, eerie looking portal room with the large copper basin filled with a shallow bit of water.

Roux motioned for Aloysius and Agathe to step in the basin first. Aloysius pulled a handful of Enchanted Dust from his pocket and dropped it in. He and Agathe vanished immediately.

The teenaged young man stepped into the basin the same second the other two had disappeared. By then, the four of them could hear footsteps and yelling from the staircase. The prison guards.

"Stop them! There's been an attempted jailbreak! Sound the alarms!" a man below was heard shouting. An ear-blasting siren sounded. It pained Marcel's ears, but it hastened him and Robert on.

"All four of us now- there's no time!" Toulouse screamed in anxious haste. He motioned for all of them to step together inside the water-filled bowl alongside him. Robert helped half-lift Marcel's weakened legs in. The cool water enveloping Marcel's feet felt comforting. Was he going home? Could Roux actually be Maman, using Potion of Dupliquer?

"Maman!" Marcel shouted at Roux's black frock-coated back. The man turned around again. There was nothing in the features of this person to make him believe he could be his dear Maman in disguise.

"You...are you my mother? You sound like my mother!"

Roux held his index finger to his lips. He tapped it three times to 'shush' Marcel, his eyes widening. Marcel's heart leaped. That gesture and look- one he'd known for nearly twenty-six years- was all he needed.

The person who looked just like Nicolas Roux fumbled in their pocket and pulled out a handful of the same cinnamon-colored dust. Marcel saw two men running towards them with their wands out, coming closer. An electric shock curse from a guard's wand hit his leg. He screamed in agony. The siren continued to pound his ears, and his leg burned.

The pain and weakness and hunger all were all too much for him. He lost consciousness while still in Robert's grasp.

...


	11. A Narrow Escape

The group of fleeing Enchanters surfaced in the fountain pool, back at the Great Atrium of _Le Ministère._ Robert, blinded by the brilliant sun of the outside world, nearly stumbled while he kept Marcel's limp form supported in his arms.

The werewolf blinked at the great statue of an Enchantress in pale marble. The bright reflection of sunlight in the pool made it hard to process the reality of his freedom. Glancing down at his friend, he saw that Marcel was still out cold, his eyes closed. The man's right trouser leg was ripped open, an area of burned skin and an open wound beneath it.

" _Merde!_ Help! We need some Healer help, damn it!" Robert cried out. Marcel was getting too heavy for Robert to support any longer. He lowered the younger man down into the shallow pool of water face up, holding his head above the water and allowing the pool to cleanse the burn wound on his thigh.

Sabine, still in the disguise as Officer Roux, rushed to examine her son. "We must get out of here this instant!" she said to Robert and Toulouse in distress. "This is _Le Ministère_ headquarters and they'll be looking for us!"

Toulouse successfully passed through the portal as well, escaping the prison. He looked around the Great Atrium for Aloysius and Agathe, but the two were nowhere to be seen. He heard the male officer still speaking in a lady's voice while kneeling over the injured man, beginning to realize what had happened.

"Wait- you're not really-" the boy exclaimed.

"It is me, Madame Sabine. And my hour from the potion is now up."

The person's appearance transformed once again. 'Roux' began to shrink in size. The white skin darkened to brown. The aging man's face softened to feminine features, and even the clothes changed- from the black suit, breeches and boots of the officer to the feather-trimmed white dress that Sabine had worn earlier that day.

"Great Merlin!" Robert exclaimed in shock. "You're a woman? How'd you do that?"

"She used Potion of Dupliquer!" said Toulouse, in a didactic tone. "Didn't you ever pay attention to Potion classes back in school? Even if you weren't assigned to make it, you ought to have read about it in the book-"

"Books weren't my forte, little man!" Robert argued. "You sound just like my damned father. I was more into natural studies. I was a Five Leaves-"

"I'm a Five Leaves, too. And I kept to a rigorous academic life," Toulouse retorted.

"We don't have time to argue!" Sabine chided, her eyes scanning the _Le Ministère_ headquarters building for the signs of other wizards. She remained kneeling down in the pool, getting her white dress soaked, examining her son. Robert and Toulouse heard her quietly whispering spells. The spells must have been those of healing, because to their relief, they saw the wound of burned and reddened skin on Marcel's leg disappear.

Sabine noticed a group of black-cloaked men rushing out of the door of _Le Ministère_ headquarters. Panicked, she wrapped her arms around her unconscious son and they both vanished. The pool water churned and swirled from the Magical energy of their departure.

Toulouse and Robert were left alone, standing in the pool beneath the grand statue. The men in the distance spotted them and began to advance.

"Do you have a wand?" Toulouse asked Robert nervously, reaching into his pocket to grasp the handle of his wand.

"What do you think?" Robert replied. "I've been in prison for years, do you think they'd let me keep mine? I have one weapon to my name, little _garçon,_ and it doesn't come to me until the damned moon is full!"

"Gentlemen! State your names and your business here!" one of the officials commanded as the group approached the pool.

"My name is Monsieur LeLoup! And it is my business to eat you alive!" Robert roared, his words ending in a maniacal laugh.

The gentleman's eyes widened; he reached to draw his wand. Officials behind him moved to draw theirs, but they were a split second too late. Toulouse had his wand out while Robert was threatening to eat them.

 _"Abeilles!"_ Toulouse shouted. The swarm of bees surrounded the Ministry officials, stinging and buzzing and bringing the men to their knees. It was enough to allow Toulouse to clutch Robert by his tattered shirtsleeve and quickly vanish into thin air.

The two reappeared in a house, someone's modest kitchen. A woman was cooking in a pot held over a fire.

"Maman," Toulouse said to the woman, "I brought a friend for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

…

Sabine transported herself and her son to her own home, to the spare bedroom Marcel had occupied whenever he came to visit on holidays. She used her wand to help him to the metal-framed feather bed, thankful that she'd been able to heal his leg with a spell. She found a quilt, covered him with it, and proceeded to watch over him. Her grown son's eyes remained closed in sleep. He'd grown a short beard, which made him look more mature than ever. Sabine ran her hand through the black curls of his hair. She put a hand on his thin, hunger-flattened chest, and felt a clear heartbeat.

"Monique?" Sabine called to her niece, wondering if she was downstairs. There was no answer. The _Sans-Magie_ girl named Adelaide had taken her out of the house and hadn't returned yet.

…

Monique was having a pleasant time walking the streets of Paris with Mademoiselle Adelaide, an eager listener to her tales about Magical life and her school.

"So they teach you how to make witches' brew, cast spells, and fly on brooms? I can't believe that's actually real!" Adelaide said in wonder.

"It's real! I can't wait until one week from now, when I start again," said Monique with enthusiasm. "In October, the first _Boule de Plume _games will be held. My friend Odette, my best friend Marie's older sister, she plays for the team called _Étoiles Bleu_ at school. They won the school championship last year! They went to England to play their school's champions, and Odette told me and Marie that the English team was full of nasty cheaters! She was knocked off her broom by some Brit boy, and she had to quickly perform a Levitation charm! Otherwise she would have fallen to her death."__

____

____

"Girls are allowed to play _Boule de Plume?"_ Adelaide asked.

"Of course! We can fly and bat balls just as well as boys can. Except the goal tenders are usually boys...you said you met my cousin Marcel, didn't you?" she asked, her excited tone saddening a little.

"Yes, Monique, I knew him-"

"A long time ago when he went to the Académie, he played for _Étoiles Bleu_ just like Odette, and he had the most important position. His role was to seek out the _Boule de Plume_ and catch it for bonus points. He was so good he played professionally! Did he tell you that?"

"He never told me he played professionally, but- oh, no!" Adelaide cried out, remembering something. "Monique- I have to go back to the hotel. Do you mind walking with me? I just remembered- I need to officially quit my job there. The manager will be angry with me, but who cares, I hate cleaning! I left Marcel's _Boule de Plume_ in the hotel and I want it back! I hope no one stole it!"

"You left his _Boule de Plume_ in a _Sans-Magie_ hotel?" Monique said with an air of judgment. "When did he give you one?"

"His sister gave it to me. It's a long story," Adelaide said, walking faster toward the street crossing and hoping the young girl followed. "Monique, do you want to come with me, or would you rather go back home?"

"I can come with you. I can't use magic to help you find it, though."

The two crossed the busy street with the aid of a traffic gendarme. Adelaide led Monique to the grand L'Hotel de Brumagne. She rushed up the stairs and found her employee lodging room on the top floor. The door was locked.

"Now I'll have to go find my boss and ask for my things back," she said with apprehension. She'd meant to go back to her job site and officially quit, but with her memory having been erased and restored- followed by being a witness to another Enchanters' battle- it had been the last thing on her mind.

Adelaide and Monique walked down the flights of steps and shyly approached the front desk, where Adelaide found a different man in the role of concierge. Of course, Aloysius had been briefly employed there, and so had Toulouse. She wasn't the only one who'd walked off the job.

"Monsieur, may I speak to Monsieur Poulin? I am a former housekeeper, and I left some belongings here."

"Are you one of the people who walked off the job yesterday?" the new concierge said dismissively. "Anything that those fools owned were either gifted to other employees, or thrown in the rubbish."

"Yes," Adelaide said, tears of mortification burning in her eyes. "I never meant to 'walk off,' Monsieur. I became ill! Could I please speak to Monsieur Poulin to officially resign?"

He scowled. "Sophisticated words for a mere cleaning maid." He turned to Monique. "Young lady, if I get Monsieur Poulin, would you be interested in joining us? We need help in the housekeeping department."

Monique frowned. "But I don't know how to clean," she replied.

The concierge scowled once more, eyeing little Monique with disdain. "Then what use would a girl like you be? Unless you belong to her?" He addressed Adelaide. "How could you afford to have a servant girl?"

"Forget it!" Adelaide snapped angrily. "She's no one's servant girl! She does not 'belong' to me, or anyone else, except her family! She's a thirteen-year-old child! We're leaving."

Within moments, the two had exited the hotel building. Adelaide sighed with regret for her carelessness, mixed with anger at that swinish man. She could no longer hold back her frustrated tears; she started to sob silently as they walked, until she took a break to sit down on a nearby street bench.

"Mademoiselle Adelaide," Monique consoled, "please don't cry. Perhaps I can get my Auntie to help find your things, and Marcel's _Boule de Plume,_ with her magic?"

"I lost some old clothes and things I owned, but those are replaceable. What breaks my heart is that I lost Marcel's _Boule de Plume!_ I wanted to hold on to it forever!"

"He was a close friend, then?"

"We only knew each other a month or so. But we spent an entire carriage journey together. You know when you just click with someone? That's what happened. But for most of that time I didn't know he was an Enchanter."

"I'm surprised he wanted to be friends with you," said Monique.

"What do you mean? I think he was just as fond of me as I was of him," Adelaide said, wiping an eye. She was quite stung by the remark. Naturally, a girl getting her education at a great Magical Académie, filled with glamorous, beautiful Enchantresses and dashing young Enchanters, wouldn't believe one of their kind would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as Adelaide.

"Marcel didn't talk to _Sans-Magies_ very much," said Monique. "They treated him the same way that man at the desk treated me. None of us like being looked down upon. Especially not for a stupid reason as our skin color."

"Oh...I understand," Adelaide said, feeling better. "I would've never looked down on him, or you either. And I thought he was so…" She paused. "Friendly and nice."

She corrected herself quickly in front of the teenager. She'd been about to say 'cute and charming' like a lovestruck schoolgirl, but felt the need to be an adult and keep her romantic life to herself, especially to the family. She'd just met them. If Marcel were to die in prison, she did not want to be thought of as some wanton pursuer of their lost loved one- whether she was _Sans-Magie_ or Magical. She decided to keep that private.

"He was nice. Always kind to me, better than a big brother," Monique said, her dark eyes reddening. "He might end up stuck inside that prison until he dies! I'm losing my family, Mademoiselle Adelaide! My Maman and Papa had to flee Paris for England because they know my Maman can't do magic!"

The girl began crying now, and it was Adelaide's turn to console her. "She was born a Defective, just like my cousin Jacinta. So she's forbidden to be even married to a wizard!"

"Your parents can't be married to each other?" Adelaide asked. "They were married already, weren't they?"

"For many years, yes. Their names are Edouard and Celeste Guerin. Maman is African, and Papa is a Frenchman, he has pale white skin. But it isn't because of color, it's because of magic."

"I don't understand how that can change."

"Because it's a blood crime," she said sadly. "It never used to be, but now it is! My parents were sent a letter ordering them to go to the _Le Ministère_ building and break up their marriage, or else they'd lose the right to be citizens of Magical France! Or be taken to prison! It's the new Minister's laws. So they left!" she said tearfully, trusting Adelaide as a confidante in all her fear and despair. "And not only that...I'm called a _Sang-Sale,_ because I'm her daughter. So they might not even let me into school this year!"

"I'm sorry...I don't know what to say."

The girl allowed Adelaide to hug her, and she did so with a motherly instinct. Adelaide wondered again why these people who seemed so normal, could be born in a separate society she hadn't been aware of before. A frightening society of the strange and supernatural. She hadn't even seen Monique do anything magical since she'd met her.

"Monique," Adelaide said after a moment, "why would they call you 'dirty blood?' It sounds cruel. Is that what they call people whose relatives have no magic?"

"Yes," the girl nodded, sniffling.

"And they force married couples to break up? That's terrible!"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Mademoiselle Adelaide," the teenager mumbled quietly. Her pretty tan hands covered her face in distress. Tendrils of hair had escaped her braided bun and blew in the breeze.

Two well dressed gentlemen walked past Adelaide and Monique. They gave them the same scowling look the hotel concierge had given them earlier.

 _"Excusez-moi,_ you girls. We need to use that bench. Go home, please." one of them demanded.

"We will," Adelaide mumbled, standing and taking Monique by the arm, too tired and cross to even want to protest. They began to walk again, heading in the direction of the Third Quartier of town, empty handed of the things that Adelaide had hoped to recover.

"At least those men weren't wizards," Monique said once they were a block away.

"How can you tell they weren't wizards?"

"Because they left me alone, and they didn't poke around in my business. Being a girl and being ignored and looked down on is a good thing right now," Monique said, drying her tearstained cheek with her sleeve. "Being out in public where almost everyone's a _Sans-Magie_ is safe, Auntie says. They can't draw their wands or use magic in the middle of the city streets. They're scared of being seen and getting in trouble. But they can transport themselves to other Magical homes, and that's what just happened. Auntie wasn't careful enough. She forgot to put more charms on the house."

Adelaide gave her a smile of encouragement. "So they can only do their evil in certain places. They can't expose themselves." She laughed a little, thinking of Sauvageon and how he likely broke his own law.

The two crossed another busy street filled with people, carriages and horses. When they reached the Third Quartier neighborhood, they tried to walk in the areas most occupied by other people. As they went further from the businesslike midtown and more into the general neighborhood, the people became less elegantly-dressed. More women and children appeared, and Adelaide and Monique waved at each group in a friendly manner, exchanging greetings of 'Bonjour' to everyone they passed.

"As long as we're out in the sunshine and in a crowd, we're fine," Monique said, now cheerful. "But I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

"Thirsty and hungry. I still have some money in my purse. I have no job, so I don't want to spend too much. Would you like me to walk you home?"

Monique nodded, and the two continued to walk for ten more minutes. Adelaide was confused at first when Monique rushed to a narrow space between two buildings. She began to knock on air like a mime performer. Her face was a picture of worry and distress.

"Monique, honey, that's not your house. You're knocking on air."

"It's right here. Auntie Sabine enchanted our house. It can only be seen and entered by her members of my family," she replied. "I only hope she makes it back safely!"

"It's hard to believe what she said she was going to do!" Adelaide said, while she watched Monique pull an invisible rope, likely a doorbell. "Disguised as a man, going to the prison to try to rescue Marcel? Aloysius was just taken, and he was the one planning to break Marcel and another Enchantress out. And I was going to help Aloysius collect potion ingredients first!"

"Auntie Sabine has all the potions needed," said Monique. "You saw her use Dupliquer potion to turn into the officer."

"But how can she fight the prison guards? She's just one lady."

"She's a powerful Enchantress, Mademoiselle. Just as much as any man."

"I'm glad you have faith in her," Adelaide said nervously.

"I do...but I'm still scared." the girl admitted. In her blue ruffle-bottom dress and braided hair, Adelaide thought she looked so tiny and young, barely past the age of playing with dolls. "If she doesn't come back, I'm afraid to be home by myself."

Adelaide's heart went out to her. "If your Auntie isn't back, you can come home with me. I'll wait here and make sure she answers!"

"All right. Merci." Monique smiled, enough to show a dimple in her cheek. Just then, Adelaide saw Madame Sabine's head and shoulders appear out of what looked like a patch of heat haze in the air. It resembled the natural heat waves one would see above a fire.

"Ma Petite! I'm home! Come inside!" Sabine took Monique's hand and gently tugged her inside. The girl, her aunt, and the patch of haze vanished.

Adelaide stood on the street dumbfounded for a few moments. She wished she could step forward and try to knock on the invisible door herself. But two men walked by, workers laughing together at a shared joke. _Sans-Magie_ men, ordinary and plain, like her. They would find her quite crazy and odd to be knocking on air.

She turned and walked a few blocks to her parents' home, went upstairs to the second floor flat, let herself in, and greeted her mother in the small kitchen.

"Maman?"

"Addie! What have you been up to today?" her mother asked. "Did you go to work?"

"No, Maman. I decided to quit. I'm sorry, but it wasn't working out. I'm not meant to do so much tedious cleaning all day."

She frowned. "I understand. But I told you it was a bad idea to stop working for the Marquis' family. You had such a good situation before, as a personal maid for Lady Evangeline. Living in a fine home with room and board- don't you miss them?" Madame Fortier asked, gesturing with thinly veiled exasperation.

"I do. But I don't know if I want to go back there, either."

"Ma petite, you aren't getting any younger." Madame Fortier said quietly. She did not need to say more; the message about Addie's spinsterhood was as clear as ever. "Emilie and Gaston were here earlier. And Gaston was saying some very strange things about you."

"What strange things?" Adelaide searched for a cup on the tea tray and helped herself to some cooled-off tea. She drank up one cup, then quickly refilled another, looking for any leftover biscuits or bread.

"We had dinner but there's still stew in the pot, honey. Help yourself," Madame Fortier said. "I'm concerned, Addie. Gaston was saying that you have some strange new friends- and that they practice witchcraft."

Her eyes widened with alarm for a moment, but she quickly came up with a feasible reply. "Maman, he teases me about that all the time! He thinks some of my friends are odd, so he calls them 'witches and warlocks.' You cannot take Gaston seriously. The man worships his own arm muscles."

"But Emilie was also worried."

"Maman- look at me. Do I look like I'm in danger of being taken away by wizards in flying coaches? Or killed by evil wand-waving men?"

"No, dear, you don't," her mother said, laughing. "There's no such thing as sorcerers when you put it that way! Addie, your sense of humor is a good thing for a woman like you to have. Is that a new dress? It looks very nice," she added, noticing that Adelaide was wearing an outfit she had never seen.

"Thank you."

"Emilie's new husband does seem to get too worked up over things, I agree. Emilie didn't say anything bad about your friends. It was all Gaston talking."

"Then that explains it. It's his opinion. And Emilie and I have worried about each other all our lives."

"Just try to keep good company, honey. I wish you still worked for the Marquis. It was a good, comfortable situation for an unmarried woman. Would you consider going back?"

"Yes, Maman. I will consider it. Is it alright with you and Papa if I stay here a while and decide what to do? There's a woman I met today, actually. She's the guardian of a thirteen year old girl who needs a reading tutor. I can teach a child to read and write." Adelaide said on a whim. If she were to keep spending time with magical people, she'd cover it through the ruse of a job.

"Is the lady well-to-do?" her mother asked.

"I wouldn't say very 'well to do,' but I imagine the family gets by decently."

"Nothing wrong with that," Madame Fortier said. "I just want you to be happy, well fed and clothed, that's all I wish for my daughters. Emilie's happy with her simple working husband, after all." She stoked the fire to heat the pot of leftover dinner.

…

Marcel opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of a place much lighter and brighter than the dim, hellish prison cell he'd been accustomed to for weeks.

Had he dreamed of Officer Roux talking in his mother's voice and taking on her character? Of Robert, 'LeLoup,' half-carrying him up a flight of stairs? Of being struck with a lightning shock from a guard's wand? He'd been shocked in his right thigh. The pain had felt very real.

The pain was now gone.

He looked to his right, and saw his dear Maman, wearing a white gown. "Marcel, please wake up. Open your eyes, petit. I'm here. I'm real."

"Marcel, it's me, Monique! Please talk to us," a smaller figure in a blue dress called out. He raised his head, and the blurry vision of his mother and little cousin grew clearer.

"I've got to be dreaming," he exclaimed, his head falling back down to the pillow.

"No, you're not!" Monique squealed with joy and fell upon her cousin's chest, smothering him with embraces. "Welcome back to the family!"

...


	12. The Hideout

"Agathe- I'm so glad you're alive...though you look like death," Aloysius said to his cousin the moment after they Transported themselves from the danger of the fountain pool at Le Ministère.

They had gone somewhere of Agathe's choosing. Somewhere outdoors, with cool breezes and fragrant air. A place of forest and meadow, with a brilliant blue sky overhead.

He gently held her frail shoulders, surveying her haggard and elderly appearance. Having known her all his life, he knew that she wouldn't take on this form as unless it came to her benefit. Perhaps the prison guards would have been less likely to give her abuse or unwanted attention this way; it made perfect sense.

"I've survived, that is all I can say," she whispered wearily. "Thank you, dear cousin, for rescuing me. I never believed you had it in you."

Aloysius shrugged. "Well, now you can believe it," he added with a wry smile.

She hasn't changed much after all, he thought. She used to make him feel inferior with her sense of smug superiority. After all, Agathe had been a member of the House of Shadow Moon during her Académie years- the traits of power, cunning, and pride, while Aloysius had been destined for the less notable House of the Butterfly- those of gentle nature and friendly sociability. That no longer mattered though, in this day and age.

"Please, I need to lie down," said Agathe. "I needed to use all the energy I have in this old body to transport us. We've traveled well over a hundred miles."

She slumped into an open area of cool grass near a grove of trees, reclining in exhaustion.

"Do you need some water?" Aloysius asked. He waved his recovered wand and conjured a glass bottle of water for her. She drank it for a few moments before fixing a serious gaze at him.

"We need to keep a low profile," she said. "We need to completely disappear from Magical society, Aloysius. So I brought you here. You need to stay as far from Paris as possible, now that you got yourself arrested and brought in. How did they find you?"

"How do you think?" he asked her with a sting of exasperation. "They have their ways. Their Mirrors, of course. The records they keep on every single Enchanter. And...unfortunately, I had an encounter with your dear nephew Alexis. That night began the end of my secretive life."

Aloysius broke his gaze from his only close relative and looked over his surroundings. They were in a tranquil meadow, surrounded by forests. The treetops were beginning to turn gold in early autumn. The tall spire of a castle could be seen over the treeline.

"Where are we?" he asked. "Wait...there's a castle! Is that the destination you have in mind?"

"Not for now, but I am familiar with that castle, for certain," said Agathe.

"Is that the Prince's palace? The prince you cursed?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes," said Agathe. "We are near the home of Adam and Belle. And my old home. I've been able to conjure up a secret hideout for myself whenever I needed to be in this land."

"It is a pleasant place to stay. Did you interfere in his life after his curse was broken? Do you plan on pestering him some more, now that you are free?" he asked in alarm.

"No, not at all. I only had a few social visits to the couple after their wedding. The first was to soothe my own guilt for the torture I put upon Adam and the servants. I had to explain myself. They were forgiving, and I am glad I paid them that visit. The second time was simply because a little boy who lives in the castle- a maid's son- happened to see me taking a walk by the river while he was playing. And he thought I would like to come to have 'tea with his Mama.' So I could not turn him down. And I visited briefly a third time, while I was working on Gaston's case. I was in my young and beautiful form each time."

"I see. Now for the sake of your health, Agathe, do you plan to change into a younger and healthier form? Or are you…" Aloysius let that thought trail as he gestured to her haggard and wasting appearance.

"I don't plan to die today, Aloysius. In prison, I certainly wished to. But now, seeing this beautiful land...I want peace. To live in peace."

She waved her right hand, closing her eyes to attempt to conjure a cottage for shelter, just as she had before. But now, she had no wand to strengthen the spell her brain was trying to perform. She was greatly weakened by the feat of magic that it took for them to travel.

"Are you attempting to conjure something?" Aloysius asked.

"Shelter," said Agathe. "I had always been able to do it before. During the Prince's curse, I had conjured a cottage just outside of Villeneuve, where I would stay at night while begging in the town during the day. In a way, I miss that life. I learned so much about human nature- who was kind, and who was cruel. Sans-Magies are no different from us, only in the things they are unable to do."

Aloysius nodded. "I can conjure a place to stay for the night. Unless we decide to pay a call upon Prince Adam and his bride today."

"Not yet," she replied in a weary whisper. "I need rest and rejuvenation, we need to conjure shelter. After I get a night's sleep, I may decide to Age-Shift again. It is not to my advantage anymore to look old and helpless as it did when I was in prison. The strange thing was, the last time I Age-Shifted, it was in my sleep, due to distress and sorrow."

"That's interesting. I've never Age-Shifted in my sleep," said Aloysius. "Not that I want to. What if I were to go to sleep and wake up as a small boy needing a Maman's care?" Aloysius said with a laugh.

He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it to a flat plain of grass near a canopy of trees. A simple little thatched-roof cottage appeared.

"Thank you, Aloysius. Let's go inside, the sun is about to burn my old skin."

They went inside the cottage, which was spare and empty. Aloysius took a moment to look over the place, and after he had thought for a few moments, he took his wand and went to work, conjuring up pieces of furniture. He created an odd mix of fine Rococo pieces- a floral settee and vases, and charming Colonial furnishings including a walnut dining table with two simple chairs.

"What color bedspread would you like?" he asked his cousin.

"I don't know...blue, perhaps?" Agathe said, watching Aloysius create two spindled four poster beds in the tiny room in the back. Both had blue coverings. The tiny bedroom was windowless and comforting, and Agathe took no time hesitating to fall atop one of the beds in relief.

"Are you going to put an Invisibility Charm on this house? Just in case anyone Magical is nearby?" she asked.

"It would be a good idea. Yes," said Aloysius. He looked over the new hideout, satisfied with his work. "But I am going to feel restless here, Agathe," he pondered as the old woman reclined. "There is nothing to do. How are we going to buy food? I have no Magical money to transform into Sans-Magie money."

"You could go begging, just as I had."

"Or you could go begging," he argued. "Why not go back to the life you had as a beggar woman in that village, if you felt so fond of it?"

"Aloysius, did you forget that the people of that village know of my magic? I was revealed by all to be an Enchantress."

"And that was a grave mistake," he replied.

"What about you? You can be the one to help both of us make a living while in hiding," Agathe suggested.

"I hoped to return to Paris. To keep watch over Gaston and Emilie, now that your redemption curse and my guidance has helped them both."

"That is no longer an option!" she said, rising slightly from the bed. "You are now the most wanted by Le Ministère. You would be doomed to be taken back to prison. It was only your friend Sabine's cunning, and her potions, who helped you today."

"Sabine and her family are in danger as well. I need to help them."

"It is not your responsibility to save them," Agathe argued. "It's up to her whether she wants to keep herself and her family in Paris, or to leave. Do you know that Sabine's daughter lives in Prince Adam's castle, just nearby?"

"No," Aloysius said, shocked. "Do you mean there is another Enchantress living there, among the royal family? I did not know that."

"Not an Enchantress," said Agathe. "Sabine's daughter is Sans-Magie. She was born Defective, she didn't fit in with the family. She is one of the servants whom I had...turned into an object."

Aloysius glared at his cousin. "One of those cursed servants was Sabine's daughter? Why did you never tell me?"

"Because I'd rather leave my early years and the decisions I made then behind."

"What decisions? Cursing the Prince and the servants was the ultimate dangerous decision. Were there other things?" Aloysius pressed. "Where were you for that year or two, after you finished school at the Académie? You were missing from the Sauvageon family parties, or at least the one I reluctantly attended. I never cared for some of them that much, you know."

"I had a falling out with my father."

"We all know that, Agathe," said Aloysius. "You started to rebel against the family rules about intermingling with Sans-Magies, just like I did. But where did you go?"

"Among Sans-Magies." She turned her head away from him, her old eyes looking melancholy.

"You look like you regret something, something more than just the curse you put upon Prince Adam and that castle household. What is it? It is only you and I here. You can tell me."

The old woman sighed; a look of sorrow on her face. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes tightly, and used all of her remaining energy to Age-Shift. A younger form of the enchantress now lay reclining, wearing a modest but clean dress, dark-blonde hair falling in tousled waves on the pillow. She had not chosen her youngest form, but the one resembling her true age of mid-forties.

"You look lovely," said Aloysius in a wry, placating tone. "Now, can you talk about what you were doing with the Sans-Magies back then?"

Agathe began to reminisce about her past escapades. "After I had a disagreement with my father, I took to wandering around. I found myself here when I was about nineteen or twenty. First in the village of Villeneuve, and then by fate I ventured to the Prince's castle. In Villeneuve, I lived alone in a cottage I had conjured. I performed odd jobs. Washing clothes, sewing, which I was able to do quickly and well, by using magic when the people weren't watching. I made enough coins, and I lived simply. I made friends with a few of the other young women living in Villeneuve at the time. One day, I ended up being given an invitation to a ball by a royal messenger. A ball where it was said that the Prince- not Adam, but his father Louis-Alexandre- was openly inviting all the beautiful young ladies of the land to dance in his royal presence. The girls I was with said that it was exclusive. Only the prettiest of the girls were invited, and my confidence was lifted. It sounded like a lovely night- I could escape and experience what Sans-Magies called their 'magic.' Royalty and finery."

Aloysius listened in interest. "Prince Adam's father held a ball, inviting commoners? Well, that sounds like an enjoyable break from sewing and laundering," he said. "If I had been a pretty girl and had been invited, I suppose I would have been glad to go."

"It was. We went to the castle one evening, a group of three of us. Myself and two other girls, I don't even recall their names, but they were pretty and vain, and wanted the attention of Prince Louis-Alexandre very badly."

"Did you enjoy the evening?"

"Yes...I did. When we arrived, a group of servants told us that the dresses we wore were not good enough, and they made us change into elegant white gowns, all of them matching. I remember a servant saying that if we all dressed alike, Prince Louis would notice us by our faces only, and he would choose the most beautiful ones. That should have been a warning."

"It sounds incredibly shallow," said Aloysius.

"It was, looking back. But I did not mind, I was a young girl of twenty, wanting adventure. I did not think of myself as being the most beautiful, but...what ended up happening was as soon as Prince Louis took his turn dancing with me, he invited me to his parlour alone. He chose me that evening, to be the one to ravish attention on. In the parlour, he gave me a glass of champagne. He did not touch me! Not then. But he let me talk about whatever I wanted to talk about, looking deeply and soothingly into my eyes with his blue ones. He seemed to truly want to befriend me. I told him I had left home, as my family made me feel trapped. Of course, I left out the part about my being Magical. And soon, he told me what any impoverished, runaway, young single lady would want to hear- that he would provide for me a fine place to live, with all his adoration and devotion. He was a handsome, charming Prince, several years older than I, with such a bearing of power! And I was naive."

"What in Good Merlin's sake were you th-" Aloysius spluttered. "You fell in love with Prince Adam's father? Is that what you are telling me?"

"It was not love, Aloysius! It was infatuation!" said Agathe in defense. "Just as I put his son under a spell much later, it was as if he had put me under his spell. I did not care whether or not I was Magical. I only wanted somewhere to belong. So for two months- only two months, Aloysius- I was his secret 'friend.' He gave me my own elegant suite to stay in, and servants to tend to me, though I was advised to dress like a maid. He would visit me for a few hours, a few nights a week, and...we became closer and closer. I thought that he was planning to court me, and this was the way that Sans-Magie royalty did their courting. And what a way to rebel against my father, but to become betrothed to a Sans-Magie Prince!"

"Of course, but-"

"I was not allowed to go anywhere near the West Wing, by both Louis and the servants. But, one day I did go near the West Wing...and I discovered he was already married, and with a child! I saw his wife, Princess Adele-Madeleine, with Adam, their little boy! Louis had been married for years already, but he felt perfectly free to throw festive balls, and to dance and dally with common maidens! Mistresses. That was all I was to him. He left to go to the war...and I was filled with sorrow not only for myself, but for his wife. There was no envy on my part towards her. Only hurt and rage towards him."

She gazed up at the low ceiling of the cottage, then back at her cousin. Her face seemed to lose any age or stress lines; she seemed to Aloysius to be relieved to finally tell someone close and trustworthy of her past folly.

"Agathe...I never knew you experienced this," said Aloysius, upon realization that his cousin- who always seemed to pride herself on being an independent spinster in the Enchanted world- had suffered from a fleeting taste of romance at one time. And with a high ranking royal Sans-Magie man at that.

"I left the castle soon after Louis went to war, but I resettled back in the village without much notice. I often saw the Princess and young Prince once in a while...the boy Adam was a spitting image of his father. He adored his mother," Agathe recalled.

"So you spent some time in both the castle, and in the town of Villeneuve? About twenty-six years ago?" Aloysius asked. "What made you want to return? I remember you came back to Paris, you came to visit Celie and I...before she fell ill."

Aloysius felt a sting of grief at the thought of Celie, a girl he had loved when he was a young man. She had been a Sans-Magie, a baker's daughter who had lived near his Magical home. She had been a victim of the Paris plague. There was something about his new friend Adelaide Fortier which so reminded him of her- he wasn't sure if it was her curled brown hair, curvy form, or her frank and outspoken manner tamed with kindness, but there had been something about Adelaide that was so uncannily 'Celie.' Perhaps they were related somehow. He swallowed the memory, while he inquired Agathe about her homecoming.

"I decided to return because I missed being able to do my magic, and I wanted to see my father again. He would pass away soon after," Agathe recalled.

"And I am glad you did," said Aloysius. "It was good that you and Auguste were on good terms when he died."

"Yes. I am glad I was there for Father. I should have stayed. But there was always something pulling me toward that castle," said Agathe. "Towards the mother and son. Princess Adele-Madeleine and Prince Adam. I kept going there every once in awhile, just to see them. I had been fond of her, and felt sorry for her husband's lying and deceit. I hoped that his son would grow up to be kind and humble and honest. Like her."

"But when he grew up...for a time, he wasn't."

"No...he changed after his mother died. I had gone back home to Paris, and spent time with the old social circles of my brother and his associates. Auguste Jr.'s little group of cronies. The ones who snubbed you because you loved Celie, and because you were 'odd.' You know my brother's friends I am speaking of."

"Oui, indeed," said Aloysius uncomfortably, as he sat in a Rococo chair near the two beds. "Bartholomé Bertrand himself. And Sabine's first husband, Philippe Clement. And some fellow named Corvus- odd first name, cannot recall his last name. They hated Sans-Magies, loved experimenting with Dark magic."

"My brother Auguste Jr.'s old school friends," Agathe said. "All of them were proud members of Shadow Moon, just like me. I remember overhearing their cruel talk. Being Auguste Sauvageon's beautiful younger sister, they liked having me around to flirt with and pour their goblets of mead or wine. And they challenged me to perform contests of Magical skill with them. My large-scale Conjuring and Transformations, and the fact I could Age-Shift. I know my magic is more powerful than Bertrand's, because I often won those little games of skill my brother set up."

"Of course. Just like you enjoyed showing your Transformations to me, but since I can Age-Shift, and do large-scale Conjuring and brew effective potions, I wasn't as impressed," he said with a slight air of teasing. Agathe smiled a bit, then continued.

"Nonetheless, the more I found myself listening to those mens' loose-lipped remarks, the more I became uneasy. Clement was the worst, I thought- the way he talked about his daughter with no magic. He said terrible things about his own little girl, and his wife."

"Sabine made a brave and good choice to leave that man," said Aloysius. "She ended up not needing him as much as she thought. The poor girl, having no magic but being a daughter of his."

"I decided to intervene in her life, which was probably not a good act in hindsight," said Agathe. "I watched over Philippe and Sabine Clement's family, and I saw how sweet and joyful that daughter of theirs was. I knew their son was Magical, but he disappointed Clement also- by being placed as a Butterfly type instead of a Shadow Moon when he went to school."

"And that was one of the reasons I don't fit in with the rest of the clan," said Aloysius. "I'm a Butterfly. Kind, social, a lover of romance and idealism. There is nothing wrong with those traits. Agathe, I think you were mis-sorted. You have Butterfly traits, I think."

"Perhaps I was. I had a combination of both traits. Part of me hoped for Butterfly, but was relieved to be in Shadow Moon. So being a romantic, I watched over the young Clement girl, and I saw she was sending letters by bird post. I used my Magic Mirror and other means to discover that she was corresponding with one of the servants at Prince Adam's castle."

"Is that so? Interesting coincidence."

"And so I intervened and helped her run away. I brought Jacinta Clement to the castle we are now near, so she could be with her Sans-Magie beloved. Later, out of curiosity, I visited the castle once again. Not only to see how Sabine's daughter Jacinta- now called Plumette- was faring with her new husband, but how Prince Adam was doing. And that...was when I lost my temper. I completely lost my inhibitions that night! I saw what was happening...I left, and then I came back moments later. I went back to his door, under an Age-Shifting disguise, taking the cursed rose in my hand!"

"Oh good Merlin, Agathe! The 'curse of the century,' they call what you did!" Aloysius exclaimed. "What did you see that caused you to become so wrathful?"

Agathe shook her head in disgust. "Prince Adam had grown to a young man by then, His mother had died several years before...but he was just like his father was. The same gaudy, extravagant balls, ladies all dressed alike. This night, it was a masquerade ball. He was judging them on their beauty, and he danced around the ladies as they simpered and twirled to the music, hoping to be the one chosen! I was so crushed that the sweet little boy I had seen had grown to become his father!"

"I understand, dear cousin. Anger and hurt can make us all make wrong choices," Aloysius said, reaching out to touch her hand. "But the servants? Including Sabine's innocent daughter? Why?"

"The servants- I made them objects so that they would be bound to the castle. I was afraid that they would all scatter the land and tell everyone, can you imagine how much damage and Exposure that one night would cause?"

"But the truth did come out...ten years later. It took time, Agathe, but you were identified as the one who did it. I don't know which wizard found out, but the news made me angry."

"It must have been either my brother, or his son Alexis. They had their means of investigating, and they knew my...personal style of magic. It wouldn't have been hard for them once the news broke two years ago."

"Oui. The newspaper headline which put you in infamy," Aloysius shook his head. "Now...Agathe, unfortunately, you are thought of with disdain by Sabine's family. For what you did to the daughter, along with the other servants. When I came to the prison, I saw you had been placed next to Marcel Clement. How did he react to you?"

"He had some contempt towards me, for certain," Agathe said, recalling Marcel's unusually vulgar and angry outburst. "But other times, surprisingly, we got along. I did save his friend's life. The werewolf. After that, he ingratiated himself to me."

"That was good, at least. You saved that werewolf's life? How?"

"Marcel could have killed him in self defense, but I performed an overriding spell."

"Congratulations. So the werewolf fellow is alive today, because of you. I think that makes up for a lot of the harm you did in the past."

"I wasn't honest with Marcel about my past, though. He asked me once if I had known Jacinta Clement when she was young. I lied. I told him I did not, when I had actually intervened to help her be with the man she loved."

"It is up to you if you ever want to tell him the truth. I think that is so long ago, it no longer matters," said Aloysius. "Now...I am getting hungry. How are we going to provide for ourselves here?"

"You could go to the castle and beg for some coins?" Agathe suggested, with a slight smile of mirth.

"It sounds degrading...maybe I can look for a job as a servant. A dishwasher again?" Aloysius said with a wry laugh.

"You would gain more sympathy if you were...a young boy perhaps. Do you think you could Age-Shift?"

"You want me to Age-Shift so I can approach the castle? Do you realize how ironic that sounds?" Aloysius threw his head back and laughed out loud, wiping a tear of mirth from his eyes.

"Yes, Aloysius. You can do it," said Agathe with a smile. "We must do what we can to take cover in these dangerous times."

...


End file.
